Here we are, in October, a month that is supposed to represent pregnancy and infant loss awareness. What a way to kick it off. Talking about yet another miscarriage. Our third. Well, fourth. Well, probably more like tenth. Ugh. There is SO much to talk about. 

I’ve struggled to know how to even begin this post. How do I open the conversation up again about another loss, when I hoped to never go through another one. What could I possibly have to say that I haven’t said before. I don’t even want to talk about it. Yet, I do, because its so healing to share with people who are invested in our lives. And that, my friends, is you.

Deep breaths. 

There is so much backstory to this loss. A lot more than “we were pregnant and then we weren’t anymore.” It wasn’t so simple. It never really is, I suppose. Even a “routine” isn’t simple. I don’t have it in me to make one big post about everything. It would just be SO long and probably a super downer. I guess this is just my strange “announcement” that we are once again in the dreary, dismal boat of baby loss. Our hearts break, as they are pulled so hard in the direction of growing our family, and then yanked back into this sad, painful place devoid of answers, logic or any kind of justice. Its. Not. Fair. 

Please give me grace in the coming days, as I’m not my usual upbeat self. Finding beauty in the days isn’t quite as easy as it is other days. My body and heart are both in pretty severe pain and putting on a brave face is almost impossible. Forgive my short, uninspired blog posts. 

Next week is going be a sad one, I think. I plan to share some of the backstory to this pregnancy, and its going to take a few days, so I’m going to stretch it over the week. If its not your cup of tea, I respect that, and you don’t have to follow. I’d still appreciate your grace, and your prayers, if you’re the praying type. 

I have felt in the past that I just wished our losses could be enough, and no one else would ever have to lose a baby. Like somehow, how losses were SO bad, they would fill the “quota” for miscarriage, and no one would ever have to experience something so awful. Yet here we are, doing it all over again. Clearly nothing is ever guaranteed. Life is not promised. And I hate that. 

I know I have five kids. I am very grateful for them. Totally. But, call me crazy, I was pretty attached to this one, as well. 

Deep breaths.