Struggling & How to Help

Having a baby after losing a baby is hard. Then you add a complication to the pregnancy and everything spirals. To be honest, I am struggling right now.

 

What has happened in the last five days:

I had my 20 week ultrasound last Tuesday. That night, our doctor called and said there may be something wrong with my baby’s heart and that it could be an indicator of a larger problem. I was making dinner at the time. The torrent of emotions nearly knocked me off my feet. I wept so hard both nostrils started bleeding. There was blood on my clothing and on my three-year-old son who ran to comfort me.

Though I was making a new recipe that night, both Aaron and I lost our appetites after the call. At the same time, our instinctual coping mechanisms kicked-in. All I wanted to do was eat and eat and eat (even though I wasn’t hungry). Aaron wanted to search the internet for statistics and research. In the end, he said those numbers didn’t matter though. We had been the small statistic before, the unlucky ones when Zachary died. Statistics were not comforting.

The very next day, Wednesday, I began testing. I watched my blood be sucked out from my veins. Blood so red it reminded me I am human and cannot control my fate.

Feelings of anger bubbled up. I wondered: why is this happening again?

It all feels very much like de ja vu. Everything began with Zachary around the 25 week mark. What took his life was a tumor around his heart.

Thursday was another test. A sterile clinic. More blood.

I am being booked in for a wide range of tests, similar to my experience with Zach. Right now, I have no answers. I am waiting for results and waiting for more tests and doctors’ appointments. I am trying NOT to let my mind spin out of control. Very intentionally, I am protecting my reserve of emotional and physical strength. All I can do is wait.

Unfortunately, waiting is very hard.

Having been through this before, I knew to clear my calendar right away. I backed out of certain work projects and postponed others. There are certain things that must continue, but outside of those, I made room for myself to rest. In many ways, I feel this has become a season of rest and self-care.

I was supposed to speak at the Baby Steps Memorial Walk this Sunday – but how could I? I barely have energy to keep my eyes open for more than 4 hours at a time. I am so depleted with everything that all I can think about is taking care of myself and looking after my two living kids – and supporting my husband. I want to help others, it is my passion, but I am empty. It breaks my heart to let go of special opportunities like this, but a new season has begun, whether I like it or not.

This pregnancy was already a challenge thanks to 24/7 morning sickness, but I at least I was optimistic. This was going to be my second rainbow baby, which means my second child after loss.

 

Having a baby after losing a baby:

My pregnancy with Eden, after Zachary died, was torture. I couldn’t picture having a baby that lived. Thankfully, Eden was born healthy and complication free – and for him, and Hannah, I am incredibly thankful.

I am also thankful for Zachary. He taught me so much. I miss him every day. 

A difference from my last pregnancy with Eden: I went into this one with Baby #4 feeling positive. I was making plans for the future and was generally excited. That was a big deal as I had not allowed myself to hope in my pregnancy with Eden. This time, I actually felt like everything would progress well. I set up the nursery and talked with Hannah and Eden every day about their little baby brother or sister on the way. We guessed gender. Took bets amongst us.

Then the doctor called – and I kicked myself for letting my guard down.

 

Support:

On Tuesday I posted on Facebook, after I got the call, that there may be something wrong. The love and support I have felt since is incredible. There is no other way to describe it. I am so grateful for the kindness from friends, family and acquaintances.

Someone suggested to me that I don’t tell anyone what is happening. First of all, I am an open book. Second of all, as a freaked-out mom, I need all the support I can get.

 

Everyone asks me what I need. I appreciate the question, but don’t know how to answer. Most days I don’t know what I need.

 

What is NOT helpful:

• Using statistics to say everything will be okay. I’ve been the statistic before. That is not comforting. Even saying that you had a scare but everything turned out… yes, that is empathetic, but it doesn’t mean I will have the same experience.
• Saying “everything will be okay” in general. I’ve heard that before and then my son died. Those words really bother me now.
• Arguing with me about what I need or what would be helpful. Please don’t argue with me about how upset I should or should not be, how I should feel on a particular day, and so on. I am being as authentic to myself in this situation as I can and I need the freedom to experience it all in my own way.
• Being in social settings with people I don’t know or don’t know well. They take one look at my belly and say, “Oh, you are pregnant! That’s so exciting! How’s it going?” I don’t want to be forced to be fake and say everything is fine. I also don’t want to talk about my painful situation all the time with strangers.
• Somehow, having to set times for activities and make plans really stresses me out right now. I don’t know how I will feel in 2 hours or in two days. I have doctors’ appointments and tests coming up, but I don’t know all those dates and times yet. I want to see people, but coordinating is wearying right now. Playing it by ear and last minute plans are actually a relief.
• Supporting me but not my husband. Aaron is having a hard time, just like me, but the level of care I receive is vastly different from him. I wish this were different.

 

What is helpful:

• I need people. I know that. I don’t want to go to doctors’ appointments alone. I don’t want to watch TV alone. I don’t want to paint alone. I may not want to talk about baby all the time, but I need human companionship. That may mean not talking at all – weird, right? Let’s sit side by side and draw. Or bake something. Or let our kids play together. Little distractions help.
• Going for walks – not sitting in coffee shops. I think this harkens back to the fact that public settings really tire me out right now. I don’t feel up for big outings – but having friends over to play a game or watch a movie would be wonderful. Going for walks together would lift my spirits.
• I love the texts and messages that say, “Thinking about you.” Those mean the world to me.
• Sticking it out with me for the long haul would be wonderful. I have no idea what the future will bring or the timeline. There are always people that rush to help right at the beginning, but what is appreciated are the ones who stick around.

 

That is all I can think of for now.

Again, thank you to everyone who has been so supportive already. It means the world to me.

BIG HUGS

Alexis Marie

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*** The ways to help a person after loss are unique to each individual. The above lists reflects my own grief/process/struggle. If you have other ideas of what may help a person who is pregnant after loss, please comment below. 

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