The Incredible Gift That Came From My Miscarriage
I didn’t know if I wanted to be a mom. I had so much fear.
I thought I would be bad at it. I thought being a mom meant that I would cease being anything else. That all the things I loved about my life – things like alone time, travel, yoga retreats and spontaneity would have to come to an end. I thought I was way too irresponsible, and selfish, and inconsistent to be anyone’s mother. I had a plethora of defenses that ultimately boiled down to the fact that I didn’t feel worthy.
My husband, on the other hand, had always wanted to be a father. We were married for almost eight years before the topic of children really came front and center – and while we had had the struggles that all marriages have – the decision to have a child or not, had not been one of our struggles up to this point. But his longing began to get stronger. His longing became so strong, in fact, that it became a deal breaker for him. He wanted to be a dad, and needed to know if I would open up to the idea of being a mom.
After a great deal of anxious contemplation, I decided to do what I always do when I’m feeling unsure – I gave the decision up to the Universe.
I would let the Universe decide. I would stop using birth control and if I was supposed to be a mom, I would get pregnant.
The Universe made its decision far more quickly than I could have anticipated. About two months later I had a dream about a very large plant that I was obsessed with planting in the right spot. A friend of mine who is incredible at contemplating the meaning of dreams, correctly assessed that it sounded to him like I was pregnant.
From the moment I looked down at the blue and white stick with two pink lines on it, I knew. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid at all. I felt flooded with sensations of excitement, devotion, certainty and love. The one thing I would be sure of for the rest of my life…I was born to be this child’s mother.
For the next two months, I felt like I was floating.
Everything was magical. Even the morning sickness I experienced was the most beautiful reminder of the fact that I was going to be someone’s mother. The moment I heard the baby’s heart beat during my first ultra sound appointment.. well that’s a moment that will be seared into my brain until the day I die. I cried the most full, open, whole hearted tears I think I ever have. I was going to be a mama.
My doctor had mentioned at the end of this first visit that they normally suggest that mother’s hold off on telling anyone about the baby until after ten weeks – just in case. I followed that advice in the beginning, but by the time I was around 9 weeks; I couldn’t contain my excitement anymore. I started telling everyone. I began getting advice from other mamas and reading about the stages of child development. I even let it slip to my entire graduate school cohort during a psych demonstration, that “oops! I was with child.”
When we were at almost 11 weeks, it was time for me to go back in for a sonogram.
My research had informed me that this sonogram would allow me to see an image of my little bean. I could barely contain my excitement. My husband and I sat in the waiting room for such a long time, that by the time I sat in the large chair and the doctor squirted ultrasound gel on my belly, I thought I might burst.
The doctor started rubbing the wand across my belly several times, adjusting the nobs and saying “hold on” as she examined the sonogram machine. I began to look at her nervously trying to ascertain what was wrong. Suddenly she reached for my hand and held it in the most supportive, graceful way I think anyone ever has. She said, “Dené, I’m so very sorry. I’m no longer getting a heartbeat.” The miraculous sound that had come from inside me just a few weeks earlier, was gone.
I know that my husband and the doctor talked for a few minutes about the fact that I had experienced what they call a “missed miscarriage” and that I would require a procedure called a DNC. I know they discussed the details of what may have happened, at what point I lost the baby, and what this might mean for me getting pregnant again. I know these conversations were happening around me, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I could only feel an agonizing ache in my chest as tears streamed down my face. Had I done this? Had I not wanted to be a mother enough to deserve this child?
After a moment had passed, I remember looking at my husband and whispering, “I’m so sorry.” to which he immediately replied firmly, “don’t. you. dare.”
Then he held me as I wept for what felt like forever. As I wept, I prayed. I repeated the prayer over and over as if I were saying it to soothe myself, “What is this here to teach me? What is this here to teach me? What is this here to teach me?”
It took some time for the answer to that question to come to me. The experience of being pregnant with a child and losing that pregnancy was what I needed to be certain of how desperately I wanted to be a mother. For me this certainty was such a gift. I have not waivered in that certainty since the first moment I looked down at that positive pregnancy test. Five months after my miscarriage, I went on to get pregnant and carry to term the most beautiful baby boy. I held my breath through every single doctor’s visit and I haven’t stopped feeling afraid since the moment he was born. Loving something so deeply means that you are acutely aware of your vulnerability - and at times this vulnerability feels overwhelming.
I’ve often said that I wish women talked about the diverse experiences that go along with the journey of becoming a mother more openly. So often, our experiences leave us with feelings of isolation, shame, fear, judgment and despair. Whether it’s talking about infertility, miscarriage, adoption, postpartum anxiety or depression, developmental challenges, a lack of support or feeling lost in this new role – the experience of being a mother is as diverse as mothers themselves. But I’ve found that each time we take the chance to be vulnerable with our own experience, we find healing in the realization that another mama has felt the exact same thing too.
