Two years ago today I lost my first pregnancy. It was a Sunday morning. First time pregnant after almost 3 years of trying. I was 5 1/2 weeks along. A was by my side as I contracted and bled into the toilet.
Some people would say I experienced a chemical pregnancy. Others would say miscarriage. Call it what you want. It was early in the pregnancy. And loss is loss. I still remember it.
I also remember the 5 days of rain that followed - the weather matched me. I did not go to work or get out of bed for those 5 days. It still stings. It was a dark time. Hope was given new meaning. I felt disconnected. I felt like it was all too unfair.
The bleeding actually started at work. I still see those moments - I was panicky, sick, and already mourning (I knew what was coming) - and if I step on the stairs just right, or turn a corner just so, then I am back there. Back at work, seeing the blood, instinctually wanting to be at home.
We named the little one Micah - after his named popped out to both of us in one of those baby name books. We went to the bookstore the evening of the day that the bleeding started - on a Friday night. I wanted to look at one of those week by week pregnancy books, just to see where I was and what the little one looked like.
That day also happened to be National Pregnancy Loss Day.
When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I was carrying a boy - strange as that sounds. [When I found out I was pregnant with C I knew I was carrying a girl - though I wanted to keep an open mind, and wouldn't say so out loud]. I also knew that I would lose him. The numbers did double. But they started out low. I just had a feeling.
In my experience, this kind of loss is deep and profound. I really felt alone and like I had lost a part of myself. But it was deeper and more profound than that. Really there are no words. It is a loss I can still feel in my core.
I also feel that I was meant to carry him - even for that short while. I was meant to, much in the same way I was meant to be C's mama. And as such his life had meaning. Even conceptualising it this way feels odd and new, but right for me.
So, yes, Micah was a gift and I was honoured to hold him, carry him, and be that vessel.
I know he is around. I am thankful to him for humbling me, pushing me to grow, and showing me life.