I came across a quote not long after I lost my twins that said
“We wanted to write down exactly what it felt like to lose a baby but for some reason the page stayed empty.
And we could not have described it any better.”
I find so much truth in these words. I have found it so hard to fully communicate the utter grief and heartache I feel since my miscarriage. There simply are no words that can describe the pain I feel in my heart when I think of what we lost.
I have stared at my screen for hours trying to write this post, at a loss for words of what to really say, whilst inside my heart breaks all over again thinking back to that early October day when the doctor said she couldn’t see any heartbeats.
In that moment, the happy shock of finding out I was carrying twins and then the devastation of knowing they didn’t make it washed over me in all of about 3 seconds.
But I was determined to write something for baby loss awareness month, not only to mark and acknowledge their existence but also to share my experience in case anyone else going through something similar right now finds comfort from this post.
Miscarriage is simply something that never entered my consciousness as a possibility. You’re taught in school that basically if you sit next to a boy you’ll get pregnant. Nowhere was I taught that either a). it’s a very real possibility you’ll struggle to get pregnant or b). there’s a very real possibility you will lose your baby. 1 in 4 women will have a miscarriage yet it’s still shrouded in such secrecy.
I think I felt every emotion under the sun after finding out my babies had died. One I wasn’t expecting to feel quite so strongly was dumbstruck. I literally couldn’t process the fact that they’d died. That they were no longer living and growing inside me. And it really brought home to me just how little control we have. How we can plan and plan and then plan a little bit more for getting pregnant and starting a family but really, you have no control over the outcome.
I was speaking to my best friend who lost a pregnancy before conceiving her daughter and she said that it doesn’t matter how far along you are, as soon as you see those two lines, you start imagining and planning. And you do. I did. I imagined what they’d look like, what our life would be like, how stressful it would be (I’m a realist) but also how glorious it would be to have a little human that love had created.
When I visited Tokyo last year, I took a special trip to the Zōjō-ji temple where they have a baby loss garden (a Mizuko kuyō) with rows and rows of jizo statues with knitted hats on, marking the little lives that didn’t make it. And whilst I stood there sobbing in the middle of the statues (luckily it was a quiet Monday morning), a real inner peace washed over me. It was such a simple gesture, not only to represent loss but to also acknowledge their existence and I felt grateful to the Japanese for being so open and honest about baby loss. It’s a real thing that so many people go through and no matter at what stage you have a miscarriage, you’ve still lost your baby. It doesn’t matter that you never held them or saw them, they are a very real part of you and always will be.
I was scared that as time elapsed, I’d forget about them or that the march of time would slowly diminish their importance in my life. And whilst it’s true that there are some days I don’t think of them, they are still very much present in my heart & will forever remain a part of who I am.
Grief never goes away, it simply fades and I think you learn to live with it, with that achy dullness in your heart, with life having lost a tiny bit of sparkle.
I started a Pinterest board called “My Heart” after my miscarriage and got great comfort from some words on there. This was my favourite quote and what I’ll end this post with
“I carried you every second of your life and I will love you for every second of mine.”
Because really, that sums up perfectly the way I feel. I will love those little babies for the rest of my life, forever sad that we never got to meet. 💚💚