Wednesday, July 13, 2011

The Losses: 1

Not all journeys begin expectedly.

I knew it was bad in the first seconds I laid eyes on it. There was nofetal pole, no heartbeat. Nothing. A shock clenched my stomach. I was supposed to be at 10 weeks...the little one hadn't even survived past the first month. My body was clinging to the fertilized egg desperately, trying to imbue life into something that was never meant to be

There was an RH shot, and then I couldn't dam the hot tears. It was only weeks away from my second trimester, I had spent nearly the entire summer investing in my little girl,  without the charm to keep her

Shaking, doctor's orders in hand, I had to schedule another sonogram to make sure my body had expelled everything. Red-faced, whimpering, all eyes in that fucking  waiting room on me. Did these people really have to bear witness? The door closed behind me. My sobs could not support me down the hallway.

At home I screamed.  Screamed and screamed and screamed. I screamed until I had nothing left to give. I just lapsed into staring. My first little one. My only. Torn from our lives  while a bottomless sorrow swallowed me inside to out. This was my first love, my first heart break. My world turned sunshine to black. 

I allowed a natural miscarriage over a DNC, and I owned that pain. It was hers, mine. I would take it for her. I would take it all. I bled for days. On the last day my extended family took a 5 mile hike along the Grand Sable dunes in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. My husband found a fist-sized rock in Lake Superior. The icy waters had worn away the rock's rough edges, revealing a thin red line in its face. It looked like a childishly-drawn heart. He carried it on the return journey, up the shore, over the miles of dunes, and out of the woods. It was our love, a token, a gesture of support. A reminder of our little lost bean. We brought it home and it sits on my nightstand still.

Looking at it I remember not all journeys begin expectedly.  

I also remember love. 


  1. Sunshine,
    You got me all teary-eyed with this! How sweet of your husband to bring that home to you:) What a difficult trial for you... I can only imagine the sadness. Thank you for sharing that... you are a beautiful writer.
    Ms. O

  2. It was a tough time for Mr. Sunshine and I. Thank you for sharing your thoughts Ms. O!

  3. Oh I'm so sorry! What a terrible thing to have to go through. :(

  4. Thanks Melissa. I have more perspective on it now. And I know it isn't uncommon for many couples to go through several miscarriages. I just wasn't prepared.

  5. I feel your pain. Same thing happened to me and the husband 6 weeks ago. I don't think it will ever feel "common" to anyone that goes through it... Sorry for your loss.

  6. Anonymous,
    Thank you for your comment. The pain hides and rears its head from time to time. But its hiding places are becoming a bit more obscured with distance.
    I am so sorry for your loss. I hope you can find strength and the hope you need to carry you through.