Life Goes On?

Believe it or not, life does go on after we lose a baby, whether we want it to or not.

The first few days after my miscarriage, I could do nothing but cry.  I had no desire to eat.  I would lay in the bathtub for hours staring at my belly, knowing the baby inside of me was dead.  I felt like a walking, breathing casket.  I would pray that God would just put me out of my misery.  The only reason I got out of bed at all was because I had two other children that needed me.  But as soon as they were napping or tucked in for the night, back to the bath tub or bed I went.

After about 2 weeks, I started to somewhat function again.  I didn't recognize the person I was anymore, though.  While I've learned to adapt, I'm still not the person I was before my miscarriage.  It changes you, somewhat for the better, somewhat for the not-so-good.  I started running 4-5 miles a day on the treadmill which was NOT something I have ever done.  I pushed myself until I ended up with stress fractures in both of my feet.  Apparently, you're not supposed to jump head first into a crazy exercise routine, but I jumped head first into a lot of off the wall things after losing McKenna.

Slowly, life became a new normal.  I just accepted that I will always have that painful ache in my chest.  It does get smaller, but it's always there.  Somedays, it's still unbelievably hard.  McKenna's due date and the day I found out I was losing her are two days where I just allow myself to spend the day grieving.

Pregnancy after loss is a totally scary thing. Every twitch, every pain sends you into a panic like it never did before.  That innocence of joy and excitement is lost.  Every ultrasound is no longer an exciting time, but a feared one.  Every trip to the bathroom involves an inspection for blood.  And when there IS any blood, bile rises up in your throat and your heart feels like it's going to jump right out of your chest.  There weren't many moments of relaxation and enjoyment in my pregnancy after McKenna.  I didn't feel totally safe until Emalee was in my arms.  That first moment I held her, a big part of my broken heart finally healed.

I don't know why I lost my baby.  I never will.  As I sit here and write this, I have my 15-month-old rainbow baby sitting in her highchair sharing her vegetables with the dog and laughing her little head off.  While it breaks my heart into a thousand pieces to know that McKenna will never grow up, never feed her vegetables to the dog, it makes my heart smile knowing Emalee will, and if I hadn't lost McKenna, I wouldn't have Emalee.  My ultimate wish would be to have both of my babies, but that isn't possible so I will hold on to the one I have and love all FOUR of my children with every single ounce of my being.  There really is a rainbow at the end of every storm.