Let me assure you that I'm not asking for sympathy; I just feel called to share my thoughts and feelings about my experience with losing a baby and now trying to conceive again. My hope is that someone in a similar situation will know they're not alone. (That being said, feel free to share our blog with friends and family.)
A few weeks ago, I mentioned how going back to work has been challenging and that I'd write about it another day. Well, today is the day. When I first went back to work in February after losing Levi, I found out every week about another co-worker who was pregnant (and I'm not even kidding you - every week for the first month I found out about another pregnancy). It was hard, for obvious reasons. Seeing several pregnant people at work everyday was just a bad reminder of what I lost. Before I started back this school year, I found out about 3 more pregnant co-workers. Once again, it was hard - even more so, since I was trying to get pregnant again. And alas, this week, I've found out yet again about a couple more pregnancies among my co-workers. Even though I know I could just so happen to get pregnant next month, it's hard not to feel like I'm going to be the only one not pregnant any time soon. And I hate to admit it - since I'm trying my very best to be happy for everyone - but I can't help but feel a small twinge of jealousy (okay, maybe a big twinge) every time I hear about another pregnancy. It is oh so very hard to be content with not being pregnant when you feel surrounded with people who are pregnant. Please pray for me.
I'm sorry if this next part is depressing...
Monday was not a very good day. It was several things (I'll spare the details), but when I got home, I felt like the only thing that would help was to visit Jesus in the chapel (praise God for my Catholic faith). So, I did. As I was leaving the church to go home, I noticed the cemetery next door - which I hardly ever notice, even though I've always known it was there. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming desire to visit Levi's grave, something I've never really felt, even after 8 months. It didn't take me long to realize that I couldn't do that because 1) his grave wasn't there and 2) I don't know even know where he was buried (but his body was buried, the hospital assured us). It was probably because I had a bad day, but all I wanted to do was sit by his grave and cry, and the fact that I couldn't do that was more upsetting than I ever imagined. I'm sure everyone who has lost a loved one misses them the most when they're having a bad day, and to think that I felt that way about a baby I carried for 5 short months just goes to show how powerful the bond between mother and baby can be. I think one of the hardest things about having a miscarriage or stillbirth is not having a sense of closure, since you don't have a funeral, and often times, you don't even know what your baby looked like (depending on how far along you were in the pregnancy). Logan and I did get to hold Levi's body, which was in a way a form of closure, but sometimes I wish we would have had a memorial service or asked a priest to say a mass. Maybe it would have made things a little easier.
To think that Levi is in heaven right now, praying for us, somehow makes all of this worth it.
"The Lord himself will fight for you; you have only to keep still." - Exodus 14:14