Spring Ahead: Reflections on Miscarriage
I wrote and posted this article last year on 3/14/2009 on a personal blog that I decided not to continue. Since I never did anything with that blog and no one got to read it I decided to repost it here. I edited a few things to reflect the passage of time, otherwise the text is unaltered.
March 14, 2009 was the due date for our first baby. I had a miscarriage on August 28, 2008 at 11 weeks and 5 days. During the pregnancy we called the baby Biddle. In 2009 on the baby’s due date I wanted to give the baby a name, just as we would have if he/she would’ve been born that day. We named our baby Jordan Shiloh. If he/she had survived Jordan would be two years old now (although likely with a different name). These “anniversaries” are difficult for me. They are marked with sadness for obvious reasons…but they are also very lonely. No one else remembers Jordan’s due date or miscarriage date or the date we found out that I was pregnant (July 5, 2008). I do. These dates are set apart for me now and I will never forget them. I believe I have a right to be sad. I believe I have a right to grieve our baby that we never got to know. However, I don’t want these dates to always be sad and depressing to me. I want to honor our baby.
It’s fitting that last year Jordan’s due date fell on “Spring Ahead”. It’s so symbolic of what I need to do. When going through a miscarriage (especially after following a season of infertility) it’s so easy to “fall back”. Falling back looks so inviting. Fall is a time when the trees go through an amazing transformation. Their colors change but then they shed their old leaves. They prepare for a season that they will spend cold and bare. When I lost my baby I cried more than I had ever cried in my life. My womb felt even more empty and barren then it had during my infertility. The physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional pain that I felt as my baby was leaving my body. I felt alone, empty, and as bare as the naked trees entering winter.
Although the trees are left bare for the winter, they are not dead. The leaves are dead but the trees are not dead. The leaves that they have shed are gone now, but the tree is still alive! I couldn’t bury myself, although I often felt like I wanted to. I couldn’t give up. Although I felt sadness, although I felt bare…I was still alive. I had my emotional fall. I had my emotional winter. But it can’t stay winter forever. It won’t stay winter just because I want it to. Just because I pull the covers over my head and refuse to be part of the world doesn’t make it stop spinning. When I finally get out of bed and look outside I can see that spring has come and life is still going on. Life is going on. Life. Life. LIFE. It’s out there. It’s all around. Spring is all about life, renewal, growth. I need to live life. I need to spring ahead.
This spring to honor Jordan my husband and I want to give life. Between now and the baby’s miscarriage date in August here are some of the things that we hope to do to give life: plant a tree in the baby’s memory, donate blood, and donate food/supplies to the Humane Society. In doing these things we can help the environment, help people, and help animals.
If you would like to join us in giving life this spring, leave a comment and let me know what you plan to do.
*Celebrate Your Name Week: Jordan: Why we named the baby we miscarried
*National Infertility Awareness Week
*Childless Mother: Infertility Poem
*Trying to Conceive: Take 1
*My First Pregnancy
*Trying to Conceive: Take 2
*Trying to Conceive: Take 3 Secondary Infertility
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