A Day of Empty Arms
Warning: this post is about miscarriage. While it’s my choice to share some of my experience, you don’t have to read it. I don’t want to stand in the silence or shame around this topic.
Today is September 8th, 2021. It was to be my son Faolan's due date. My partner Travis and I lost Faolan at the end of February 2021. It's crazy to understand what I/we have gone through over the last 6 months, in a global pandemic nonetheless. As part of my grief counseling I have been journaling my way through all the feels. I wanted to share an assortment of my entries today.
How do I face the brightness of tomorrow when I am shrouded in yesterday’s hazy darkness?
The first words I remember hearing when I came out of the operating room at Providence Hospital in Everett, WA were: “she’s comfortable.” I most certainly was not comfortable, in any way, shape or form.
How will I face tomorrow? It had only been a month when a little hand pointed to my stomach and said, “is there a baby in there?” Now those brown eyes looked into mine, touched me with soft small warm hands and asked, “Mommy, are you sad?” Shhhhhh my mind tells me, don’t talk about the baby. It’s too late, she already knows. Don’t show your brokenness to this world.
How do I face this world when I have nothing left of you physically, just the memory of a strong heartbeat. When you are only a statistic that nurses and doctors keep saying to me as they prepare me for removing every trace of you from the heart of my womb. As though that makes it easier to bear?
As I lay in bed on a day months after, I couldn’t get up thinking about how easy and immediately I loved you. I fought tooth and nail falling in love with your father but it was in a snap of my fingers for you. Why did my love have to transform? The body knows they told me. It knows what to do. Well then, who tells the heart? is what I wanted to respond.
We were mere days from sharing our excitement with our 4-year-old Rainer and our loved ones, waiting extra for good measure. How do I face tomorrow? My emotions were shattered in pieces left everywhere just like our son. All over our bathroom and that hospital. I was too numb and exhausted to even begin to feel shame and disgust for the blood. Blood I didn’t even know my body possessed. I cradled a blood clot so large that was hanging from my body as I sobbed in fear. It was like holding a warm organ in my hands. Your fathers hands on me were a steadying calm in that dark night. He never wavered even as we drove in silence to the emergency room after day break.
I was surrounded by medical professionals fighting a once in a lifetime virus, trauma and exhaustion visible all around their eyes. Sorrow recognizes sorrow. And I felt the loneliness. When they sent a very tired Travis away due to hospital COVID-19 protocols. “Go home” they said, “we will take care of her.” And they did. But how can I face this without him? This is what my mind screamed. The person who held me tightly when it felt like the floor came out from under me when our midwife said those words hours before our son started to forcefully leave my body, “prepare yourself as best as you can, you are experiencing a miscarriage.” How do I do that?
It was so easy to pretend at first. We just went about our ritual feeding, bathing and getting Rainer ready for bed. And then I couldn’t ignore what felt so much like labor. The violence of it all. How will I get through this? Why does the universe continue to think I am this strong? It was as though she laughed at me. Not sure why I always gender the universe. Whatever she is, she has lost her damn mind. Because I crumbled. Why were we so special to believe we could have another child? I was reminded of this when people would say “be grateful for the one you have!” “At least you have a child!” Why can’t I be selfish? This is how I want to often respond. The universe, well she don’t play like that. You get what you get.
I spent weeks hating my body wanting to feel detached from it. I wanted to punish my body for everything it took from me. How quickly it had healed when I was a mess emotionally. I never wanted to feel physical pleasure again. I hated it, how could my body do this to me? My mind screams at me replaying all the things I did that could have caused this to happen. Irrational, entirely irrational. How will I face tomorrow? When others tiptoe around me, some still do, not saying what they are thinking and yet I already know. When all I want to hear is I’m sorry you are hurting. When all I want to feel is a hug or acknowledgment that my son even existed.
So, what is left? How do I face tomorrow? I’ve decided that tomorrow is today. And I face today like I did yesterday and with all its wreckage. And though our arms are empty today, you are in our hearts forever beloved Faolan. Mama will see you on the otherside.
-a-
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