An Open Letter to the Mom who is Pregnant After Loss
So, you’re pregnant again.
How are you holding up?
I imagine that regardless of how far along you are, you have lots of mixed feelings. That’s part of the journey of pregnancy after loss, isn’t it? Pregnancy is already a roller coaster; add in the layers of carrying another child after loss, and your heart and mind are done.
When I was towards the end of my pregnancy with my daughter after back to back losses, I remember a good friend asking me, “Are you excited?” That question rang in my head and heart for days. I was happy. I was joyful. But was I excited? I’m not sure.
I was just as much scared, overwhelmed, and anxious as I was happy for this new life – this new baby that appeared healthy – and it was hard to answer. I was still sad, so sad, over my son’s death, and my grief was deep.
When you’re in the club we’re in, the thought of bringing home another baby after we’ve lost one is nerve-wracking at minimum. No matter how long we knew about or loved or carried the ones we lost, the moment we saw our first positive pregnancy test, we were changed. And then we were changed again once our innocence was robbed and we could no longer bank on the fact that most pregnancies end in living babies.
Like much of life, it’s simultaneously confusing, stressful, exciting, fun, and tearful – especially tearful – during pregnancy after loss. You understand. It’s so complex. No two mamas and no two pregnancies are the same, and yet, we get each other.
I get the pain of birth announcements even when you’re pregnant with a healthy baby. I get the tension you feel at baby showers – even your own – because you didn’t get to have one with your little one who left you way too soon. I get the way you feel like a first-time mom (or second, or eighth) and like you’re not at all at the same exact time because both are sort of true.
Even in the pain and confusion and loneliness, though, I want you to know something.
I want you to know that you are strong. Strong, yes, but not because you have some ability and giftedness that sets you apart to face more struggle in life. And not necessarily because you feel like you are or because you even asked to be. You are strong because I know that you will continue to get up in the morning, day after day, in spite of your fears and your worries and your insecurities about this baby’s life. Because you’ve heard the devastating diagnosis and you’ve seen the spot of red give way to so much more. Because you’ll do whatever you can to fight for your child and you know the strength of a mother’s love, even and especially when she’s said goodbye. Mama – you’re going through pregnancy after loss, and you’re strong.
I want you to know that I know you haven’t moved on. We know that when others see you joyfully expecting again they seem relieved, as if you’re finally past your loss and your grief has been replaced. You haven’t moved on, though. It still stings a little when someone counts your kids and doesn’t know – or doesn’t remember – to include the one you’ve buried. The tears come in your car after another doctor’s appointment where you had to sit in the same room to hear, “I’m sorry,” that you sat today, hearing this baby’s heartbeat. Friend, I know you’re not replacing your baby. You’re simply continuing to love. It’s beautiful.
I want you to know that this baby – he’s special. He’s not some magical cure-all, and he can’t be the one to heal you. He just can’t. But, he is special simply because he’s your baby. You know the depth of a mother’s love because you know the pain of infant loss. You may do things differently since you previously lost a child, but that doesn’t mean this baby is anything more than completely and unconditionally loved just because they’re yours. You love and you celebrate and you’ve taken a risk again to loss. There’s no pedestal for him, but there’s a unique joy, too. I see the way you’ll look at him; I look at mine that way, too.
I want you to know: it’s all valid. You may be worried about making sure everything is just right. You may be ashamed by the questions you have for your doctor or the reassurance you need from the nurse that it just takes a little while sometimes for that monitor to work right. You may feel guilty for wanting another child or bringing another one into the world – does this mean you’ve stopped loving the one before? And what about the other women you’ve now met still struggling, still so deep in grief? Do you shield them from your news, or do you make those hard phone calls? (And by the way, when did the baby last move? Have you felt him kick in a while?) I know. I see you. I’ve been there.
But, friend, none of this is anything that anyone can prepare you for. There is no manual for grief and there is no one right way to continue to take steps forward and live your life after going through the traumatic experience of pregnancy or infant loss. You are not alone. Those things you’re wondering about, the questions you have, the conflicting emotions – they’re normal. They’re good for you.
I want to wrap you in a hug and look you in the eyes and assure you that as hard as this journey may be, it’s worth it. It’s worth it to continue to choose hope in the face of potential heartache. It’s worth it to cry because you lost your baby and now you’re having another. It’s worth it to relive the same steps you took before except this time you’re hoping to actually leave with her in your arms. Because for every pain, there’s gladness. A new life to love. A new baby to change you. A new mother you’ll become, once more.
Take it a day at a time, and continue to hold your hands open to experience both the sorrow and the joy. You can do this. You might be scared, but you can still hope. And you will. Because you’re a good mom.
I love you and I’m rooting for you.
Love,
Your friend, who’s been there.
Hi, I'm Meg!
I'm a mom of three with babies in Heaven, a fan of warm weather and the beach, and a lover of meaningful conversations with family and friends. I spend my days with my children and college students in Richmond, VA, sharing with them the grace and truth that Jesus offers as he transforms their lives - and mine!
