On January 5th 2016, James and I sat in a cold hospital room with both hands on my belly and said goodbye to our daughter, Grace. It was the most painful moment of my entire life. Sometimes it all feels like a horrible dream and I will wake up to find my belly full again.
Losing my daughter at 18 weeks and 3 days pregnant has been painfully similar to delivering my son at 42 weeks. 3 days after losing her, my milk came in without my baby to feed. My hair is still falling out in clumps and I wake up throughout the night pooled in sweat as my hormones continue to drop. My whole body aches as it adjusts back to my pre-pregnancy weight, while my stomach holds on to the extra pouch like a deflated vessel. It takes 4-6 weeks for your hormones to get back to normal... 4-6 weeks to lose what I spent 18 weeks creating.
I was pregnant for almost 8 months of 2015 with nothing to show for it other than 2 gaping holes in my heart. None of it seems fair. All of our genetic tests came back clear, meaning there was no reason for my 2 losses other than shitty luck. Rationally I know that's a good thing, especially for possible future pregnancies, but it's so hard to grasp the fact that I will never get any answers as to why this happened. No reasons, no closure...just an endless amount of "why's" and "what if's" circulating my brain every minute of the day.
I am angry with God but continue to go to church every Sunday, grasping James tight as I cry throughout the entire service. I have to believe in something, because otherwise I feel like I will lose my mind. I have to believe He has a bigger plan for us, it's just so hard to see clearly through the darkness right now. All I can do is ask God for strength and courage to get me through each day. Ironically, the message of last week's service.