Entry 028

It’s the anniversary of the day I announce that I started a blog about miscarriage. 

I can’t tell you what one thing gave me the final shove to talk openly about a taboo subject on the internet but if I had to guess, it was the death of my fourth baby.

On October 4th last year, the words, “I’m not seeing a heartbeat today... I’m so sorry,” rang through my mind after spoken by the ultrasound technician. I was angry. I was disappointed. I was heartbroken. And I didn’t understand why it happened again.

My husband and I want nothing more than to have a baby and for whatever reason, our pregnancies always end. At that point, we’d had four miscarriages and I had been tested for every possible explanation my medical team could think of with no answers. We were young and healthy and doing every single thing we knew how to keep our babies alive. With no medical reason to be found and no concoction of medicine able to do the trick, it had to be God’s doing, right?

I was convinced we were being punished. But I had no idea what for. I prayed to God every day we were trying to conceive that He only allow me to get pregnant if we would get to bring the baby home and when we found out we were pregnant, my prayers were accompanied by pleads that nothing would cause harm to or take the life of that child. I held my breath and begged Him not to let me see blood every single time I used the bathroom. I challenged Him to bring light to whatever it was we were being punished for so we could correct it. I would fall asleep while talking to Him every night because my string of prayers got longer and more detailed every day. From, “let us bring this baby home” to, “let us bring this baby home healthy and alive after a safe delivery around his due date, and please, God, let him outlive us...” with no prevail.

I thought maybe I needed to earn a baby. I thought maybe if I was a better person and gave more to charity and held the door open for every person in my path that maybe God would see how hard I was trying. I thought maybe if I started talking about miscarriage and my angels, my next baby would live. 

So in the days between being told my fourth baby died and when he was surgically taken from my womb, I decided to start this blog. It was a way for me to talk about my children, share what it’s like to have a miscarriage and how it changed every piece of me, provide a space for other loss parents to know they’re not alone, and maybe—just maybe—it was the purpose God was waiting for me to find before he would give me a living baby.

Then I had my fifth miscarriage. It was at that point I realized you can’t earn a baby. A baby isn’t a reward. There’s nothing we can do to deserve a baby. So many things have to go right in pregnancy and if one little thing doesn’t, it can end. Living babies are complete miracles, and continuing to write won’t give me one. But still, I share my words of loss.

At the time I’m writing this, there have been 1,458 viewers on my blog site. 1,458 people have read the words I’ve shared about miscarriage, my babies, and life as a loss mama. 1,458 people have found comfort in the similarities of our stories or have learned something about a tragedy spoken about far too little. 

If you’re reading this, you’re one of those 1,458 people. And I’m grateful you’re here.

Emily Lindquist