I want you to know my baby was due 13th May 2016, yes, Friday 13th... an ominous date for some but I was so thrilled to be pregnant and due on this very date. I want you to know I had a strong feeling I was carrying a girl... the girl id always dreamed of. A yin to Phoenix’s yang. I want you to know our baby would have been here for my 33rd birthday- just. Maybe even for Tane’s birthday. What better present could we wish for? I want you to know we would have loved our baby unconditionally and Phoenix would have made us so proud being a big brother to our new addition. I want you to know I loved our baby the moment those two faint lines popped up and each and every day I watched them get darker my love grew. I want you to know I had hopes, dreams, a life planned out. I want you to know I was sick, as expected, and that comforted me. I want you to know it’s been 5 months and 25 days since my worst fears were confirmed - there is no heartbeat, your baby has died.
I want you to know I was failed by all of my health care providers. I want you to know that this support was vital and its absence made an already life shattering experience all the more horrific. I want you to know the morning I went into hospital to have a d&e I lost it. I cried a river, I cried ugly, I cried so hard I thought I would fall to pieces - that id cry so much there would be nothing left of me. I want you to know the procedure was physically easy, I went in carrying my dead baby and I came out carrying a shattered heart. I want you to know I wish I’d kept my baby; that I have nightmares about her being thrown away, discarded and it was my choice. I want you to know I continued to be sick for weeks after my baby was removed from me. I want you to know I still carry the baby weight I gained while carrying my angel.
I want you to know my miscarriage took 3 months and 12 days - one incomplete d&e, one failed medically induced miscarriage and finally a successful hysteroscopy with d&c (just days before Christmas). I want you to know during my miscarriage I lost more than my baby - my family, my friends, myself. Relationships were damaged, changed forever. I want you to know almost all of those relationships were with those closest to me, the ones I needed the most. I want you to know that after these changes I thought about suicide - often. I want you to know the only reason I am here is because of Phoenix. I want you to know I haven’t had a proper night sleep since the first scan we had (one of three, leading to the eventual confirmation of our babies passing). I want you to know I STILL have nightmares to this very day about birthing dead babies, about miscarrying and being surrounded by pools of blood, about babies being entombed in me, about bleeding out and dying. I want you to know I don’t like the new me, I don’t like this new normal. I want you to know this is so so so unfair.
I want you to know the first time my menstrual cycle showed up I was relived my miscarriage was FINALLY Over only to be heartbroken that I shouldn’t even be having this right now. I want you to know that each month my period shows up I cry for days - another reminder of what I shouldn’t be doing. I want you to know I would be 33 weeks and 5 days pregnant today. I want you to know I HATE Fridays. I want you to know I’ll never be so innocent again. I want you to know I worry everyone I love will be taken from me so easily. I want you to know how hard it is to see pregnant women and how much I loathe pregnant women complaining about their pregnancy. I want you to know it’s not okay to tell me 'you’ll have another' or 'better to lose the baby early' or 'it’s okay it wasn’t really a baby'. I want you to know as my babies due date draws close I struggle, really struggle to breathe. I want you to know I will NEVER, EVER forget my baby.
I want you to know between 20 - 25% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage. I want you to know I am far from alone. I want you to know that it is okay to talk about baby loss - no matter the gestation or age. I want you to know I don’t want my baby forgotten. I want you to know I want her talked about, my pregnancy remembered. I want you to know that baby loss is far too common and we need to stop making this such a taboo subject. I want you to know I have lost, I am grieving and my baby died. I want you to know that grief is a crazy beast who has its own path and journey. I want you to know I don’t want to walk this path alone - I have to find the way myself but that doesn’t mean I don’t want someone to pick me up when I stumble or support me when the going gets tough. I want you to know your timelines and expectations don’t apply to my world. I want you to know that unless you have travelled this path you can’t possibly know what I am going through - and for that I am thankful.
I just wanted you to know.