All Loss is Significant
June of 2014 we found out we would be parents for the first time. A few short weeks later, we found out our baby’s heartbeat had weakened and would likely stop.
Sitting with our doctor after having an awful ultrasound, she told us that all we could do was wait and see. Wait and see WHEN our baby’s heart would stop beating - not IF. She told us not to hold our breaths, or put all of our hope in a better outcome, because the way it was looking, the heartbeat of our baby would soon stop. We sat in the room for what felt like forever crying and trying to wrap our minds around what was happening, and went home not sure what to feel.
Back then, not a lot of people were talking about miscarriages or pregnancy loss. It wasn’t something you’d see a story about scrolling on social media, and I didn’t know anyone else who had gone through one.
Today though, the stories are out there. People are sharing their experiences, and celebrating the little lives that touched their hearts in big ways. They’re giving names to those whose lives weren’t long enough; getting tattoos and jewelry to commemorate what their life continues to mean even though their gone; and doing everything to celebrate the love their life brought with them.
Sometimes, thinking about the baby we lost, the baby that was alive for six weeks, it feels like it wasn’t long enough for us to do those things. Name them, commemorate them, celebrate them. But that’s a lie.
When we as humans lose someone or something that is significant to us, we feel grief, and we feel it big time. The details of what we lost doesn’t determine how the loss feels. The length of life a baby lives does not determine how long the grief stays for the parents. The significance that the loss holds determines what that looks like.
Our baby. Our sweet, weak-hearted, first life we made together was everything to us. When we lost them, our world shattered around us, and we didn’t know how to pick up the pieces. When we got pregnant each time with our boys, we were triggered by our anxieties of possible reoccurring miscarriages, and went through post-traumatic stress thinking back to the moments we were sitting in the room starting our journey of loss and grief. That’s not nothing.
Whatever your loss looks like. However it made or still makes you feel, that life is significant, and worth taking up space in your heart. Worth remembering in all the ways you want to remember. Worth celebrating or commemorating in all the ways your heart needs.
Today, my baby would be eight if they had lived past six weeks. Their little brothers know they were born in heaven, and that they have an older sibling in heaven waiting for them. My oldest sleeps with the teddy bear I bought when we found out we were first pregnant, and knows it would have been theirs. Today, my boys want to make a cake, because “that’s what we do on birthdays”. Today, we are celebrating every bit of life they had, because they are still significant.
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If you’ve had or are going through a miscarriage, and need someone to talk to, or want to share your story for others to hear, I’d love for you to reach out!
brittany@shareitgirl.com | @shareitgirl