National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day is observed annually in the United States on October 15. It is a day of remembrance for pregnancy loss and infant death which includes, but is not limited to, miscarriage, still birth, SIDS or the death of a newborn.
The first time I’d ever heard of this national remembrance day, I was 18, and pregnant with Ben in Utah. Someone had tagged me in a post for a Facebook group made up entirely of women who had babies to remember. They shared pictures, mementos, tattoos, and stories about the short lived life of their pregnancy or child. It was a heart wrenching thing to read, and even more to be a part of. I made a little post, apologizing for not quite fitting into the group, but still feeling the loss of my infant through adoption. The wonderful thing about women like that is that they loved me and supported me like I belonged. Because losing Ben the day after he was born felt a lot like death.
Last October, I remembered losing Ben, but also the loss of Houston 1 and 2. This year, I have Houston 3 to remember as well. All my beautiful babies.
The community that I’ve found and been able to be a part of on Instagram has helped me put words to my feelings, and grow beyond my one-sided perspective. I follow adoptive parents, other birth moms, and hopeful adoptive parents, as well as agencies/support groups. I like to share things that really stick out to me, either because they word, so perfectly, the things I’m feeling, or because I want others to educate themselves on the complexity of these feelings and relationships.
Adoptions and miscarriages touch our lives and those close to us more often than we can imagine, and knowing what to say, what not to say, and how to love the people going through it can really lighten their burden. Because when you’re in the thick of it, you feel all alone.
BEN
Now, I know Ben didn’t die, but my mind was so completely traumatized by losing him that I legitimately cannot connect the three year old I know today as the perfect baby I bore in the hospital. I don’t know how other birthmothers feel, but this is how I feel; it’s like he died. I walked out of there with an empty wound, empty arms, and so many tears. I grieved my loss. I ached with every ounce of emotion my body contained. And when I was dried up, I was like a zombie, until more tears could be produced. Maybe I feel this way because I was forced to give him up. I don’t know. The end lesson is, trauma is real, it seriously affects your brain, and your memories, and your emotions day to day as you remember. To this day, I wake up sometimes, thinking I have a child, searching for understanding, until the weight of losing him crashes down again, and I have to get up and move on, like it’s natural.
HOUSTON 1
When I miscarried 1, I was sad because I really wanted a baby. I was able to wrap my head around it pretty quickly because, logically, I understood that it was very soon after removing my birth control, and my body might not have been fully built up to support a child. Also, I had had a pretty serious fever for 3 days right as I found out I was pregnant, and lost it a couple days later. Fevers that early in a pregnancy are very bad for babies. So putting those facts together, I was able to step back and feel sad for my loss, but still hopeful for my future family.
HOUSTON 2
2 wrecked me. I was just completely devastated. I still have nightmares about the day I lost 2. I was only 20, and in perfect health, and yet I had my second miscarriage, and a very rare kind where I carried my mostly dead baby for 4 extra weeks. And then for 2 months after that, my hormone levels were still so high, that if I had taken a pregnancy test, it would have read positive.
I remember the ER doctor’s face. I remember yelling at him and my mom “how many do I have to lose?!” I remember him frantically searching for tissues that I used entirely.
3 months of loving this baby. I loved this baby so so so much. Whenever I feel sad about my miscarriages, I always think back to this one.
HOUSTON 3
When we got a positive test result, I was determined to not get attached because I knew it would die. And yet I got attached anyway (because hey, it’s still my baby after all). I was in a very public setting when it all happened, and I still cried my eyes out and screamed, even though I knew it was going to happen.
I cannot count the tears I’ve shed over my three babies and Ben. Grief is a horrible pain, a numbing emptiness, and a never ending, aching reminder of what could’ve, and should’ve been.
I don’t know what lesson I was meant to learn from losing not only Ben, but my three miscarriages too. Did I really need 4 examples? Did I not properly learn a mother’s love after Ben, that the it needed to be carved into me deeper? What did I miss?
There is a woman I follow on Instagram, named Elise Harris, who lost her twins halfway through pregnancy. She got their names tattooed on the inside of her arms, and said this about them: “I thought about getting my tattoos and ultimately decided that they were for me. Everyone else gets to physically have their children with them. They get to carry them in their arms and hold them. But I don’t. But having the tattoos of their names on my arms is a way for me to also have my children with me physically. To hold and to carry always.”
I talked to Zach about me getting a tattoo for a long time; we even went and met with an artist and talked about the process and my design. When I finally decided to do it, I was pregnant with H2, and therefore couldn’t get it. And then I rethought my ideas, now to include these Houston babies. So now, once Houston 4 is born and no longer breastfeeding, I can finally get my tattoo. Because I want them in my arms like it should've been.
HOUSTON 4
This pregnancy has been SO much harder than I’d anticipated. I’ve been working at least 40 hours per week, in an understaffed department leaving me with the majority of the heavy lifting—literally. Good news is, I’ll be super fit for birthing and my arms are strong so hopefully carrying around a 8 pound nugget won’t be too hard. She’s incredibly active; she never stops kicking. I’ve gained more weight in these 31 weeks than I did my entire pregnancy with Ben.
My emotions have seriously caught me off guard. I think everyone close to me has been hoping this baby will provide some good healing to my heart. But, my depression is still much more significant than I’m comfortable with. My thoughts get really scary sometimes. I’ve been grieving Ben and my Houston babies a lot.
I stopped wearing my necklace because one day, I just got so freaking mad that that is all I have of Ben; I want more, I want HIM, not some necklace.
I get really irritable when people ask me how many kids I have or if this is my first. Because I have had 4 babies. This is my 5th. But I just tell them that I do have a boy, and then they act like my family is complete now that I have a girl too.. and I just want to die.
I’ve been having anxiety too.
I had a panic attack at work and was crying on the floor, on the phone with Zach for 30 minutes one day.
I’ve talked with one of my mama friends on Instagram about connecting to this baby, because it feels so unnatural to actually get to keep her and take her home and she’ll be a real person, my person; will it be instantaneous? if it isn’t, does that make me a bad mom? Can I keep her to myself until I feel safe and bonded? Because everyone is going to want to see her, but that scares me, because what if they take her?
What if they don’t think I’m going to be a good mom, like they did with Ben?
Am I allowed to not have my dad bless this baby at church? Because that’s going to be a super awkward conversation.
Do I really have to go on a road trip less than a month after she’s born for step-family in-laws? What if people kiss her and she gets a cold and I don’t know what to do?
And.
What if she leaves me like all my other babies?
What if she hates me, and doesn’t bond?
I feel like I have no control, and suppressing all these crazy downs while dealing with super the great high of actually being able to have this baby, it's all driving me crazy.
Anyway--today is a good day to love on those women around you who have miscarried, or lost a baby. Pray for them, say hello, send them a card. Even if it isn't specific, just love on them. 1 in 4 women have had a miscarriage, 1 in 8 couples are struggling with infertility. There's probably someone close to you that you could help today.
