Entry 017
March is Pregnancy After Loss Awareness Month. Much like Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, I didn’t know such an occasion existed until I became a mother to angels. Now, March and October are my months. They’re months that the community of loss parents I find myself in gets recognized by each other, but very little comes from anyone outside this club none of us want to be in. And I think that’s because people who haven’t lost a baby and conceived afterward don’t know what it actually means to be pregnant after loss.
Before my first pregnancy ended, if I had heard about someone else being pregnant after loss, I would’ve assumed how happy and relieved they must feel. Today, I know all too well what pregnancy after loss is really like and why it’s important that there’s a month to acknowledge it.
Deciding to conceive after loss takes bravery. A lot of it. Knowing the physical pain and the mental and emotional torture you went through and opening yourself up to feel it again is terrifying. But if your desire to have a baby in your arms is stronger than the fear, you’ll try again.
Pregnancy after loss is exhausting. It never leaves your mind that you are pregnant with a baby whose sibling your body couldn’t sustain the life of. You are in constant fear that you won’t get to see this baby on Earth either. Your mind races with the things you did and ate and drank during your last pregnancy and tries to piece together what could’ve gone wrong so you can avoid it this time. You fixate on how many days along you are compared to the day your other baby died and pray so hard that day comes and goes without complication. Hours feel like days and days feel like weeks while wishing you could fast forward through the first trimester and see your baby’s heart still beating afterwards.
Whether it’s been a month, six months or two years, pregnancy after loss reopens every wound. You relive every moment that you’ve been grieving. From seeing two pink lines and being equally thankful and scared, to calling your doctor’s office to let them know you’re pregnant again, to laying on the same ultrasound table where you found out your last baby’s heart wasn’t beating any more, every part of a new pregnancy is familiar and there’s an underlying sting doing these things for a second, third or fourth time when you don’t have a baby at home from before.
Pregnancy after loss is calling your doctor before anyone else when you find out you’re expecting. It’s getting new prescriptions to see if they’ll keep your baby alive and restarting medications you’ve never gotten to refill. It’s having your blood drawn every 48 hours for the first few weeks to make sure your HCG is increasing enough before you let yourself feel any sort of excitement.
It’s holding your breath every time you use the bathroom because you’re terrified of seeing blood in your underwear, and inspecting the toilet paper when you wipe to make sure there’s no hint of red.
When you’re pregnant after loss, you want to shout it from the rooftops. You want everyone to know, especially if you didn’t get to announce your previous pregnancy. For just a little bit, you want to feel normal. You want to receive all the congratulations and well wishes you didn’t get last time. All while not wanting to tell a soul. It feels wrong when other people are excited and you’re not—I mean, you are happy to be pregnant again, but you’re almost afraid that showing it and making plans for life with this new baby will jinx the pregnancy.
Every cramp or twinge has you trying to remember if you felt that feeling when you miscarried. And pregnancy symptoms? You pay more attention to those than anything. Comparing their presence or lack there of to your previous pregnancy and Googling every single thing you feel to see if it’s normal. If you have few symptoms, that’s even worse.
During pregnancy after loss, even the prayers you pray are different. You pray that this will be the baby you get on Earth. You pray that your pregnancy ends on your due date with a baby who’s in your arms alive. And you pray that God doesn’t allow you to lose this child too.
Nothing about pregnancy after loss is easy. Not one thing. You’re simultaneously growing a new life in your womb while mourning another who died in that very place. For every second you carry this baby, you’re holding your breath and hoping for a different outcome. All while knowing babies don’t replace babies and even if you get this one in your arms, your heart will never be whole.
Meanwhile, people who don’t know better think you’re healed. They think you’ve moved on and that you feel nothing but pure bliss because you’ll finally get your baby. That’s why Pregnancy After Loss Awareness Month exists.
Emily Lindquist