October 15

It’s National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. For those of you who don’t know our history, you can read this post and this post to catch up. I feel like I need to acknowledge this day with a post again, because even though we can’t celebrate a birthday we can at least dedicate a candle to them.

To be honest, I really didn’t want to write today. I am just…tired. Tired of imagining alternate timelines. Tired of the due-dates-that-never-were swirling around in my brain, impossible to forget. I am tired of the anxiety surrounding all things pregnancy related. Tired of no answers. Tired of tests and research that went nowhere. Tired of people feeling sad for us. Tired of being sad. Tired of hoping only to be let down again.

I’ve been pregnant 5 times. 5 times of symptom spotting, peeing on every stick in sight, and finally getting those two lines, only to break my heart in all but one instance.

I am thankful every day for my little girl. Still, though, I feel like I was robbed of enjoyment with her. I lived 9 months terrified that something would go wrong. I wish I could have been one of those happy, glowing pregnant women filled with excitement and celebrating the whole time, doing the pregnancy reveal and gender party. I can’t even imagine getting a positive test and automatically assuming that it leads to a baby.

So, where does this leave us? I don’t know. Each loss has changed us in a different way. My recent loss with twins in June felt like a different blow. Not only did it affect me and Conor, but W as well. Moving forward we need to consider what is best for her, too, and how long we are willing to leave this door of possibility open for. For my health, sanity, and well being of our family, at some point we will have to close it and be thankful for what we have.

If you know someone who has suffered a loss, reach out today. Let moms and dads know you’re thinking about them. It goes a long way.

Love,

Taylor, Conor, and W

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Keep Us In Your Hearts

Hello friends. It has been a tough couple of weeks. We found out last week (on Conor’s birthday, unfortunately) that my fifth pregnancy was unviable. For those of you who have been following our journey for a while, you might remember this post where I discussed our three previous losses before getting pregnant with Baby W.

For this current pregnancy, I went in for my first ultrasound at what was supposed to be 10.5 weeks along. It turns out the babies, yes babies—it was twins—stopped growing at 6 weeks. This matched the timeline with 3 of my other losses around the same time. We are devastated. We have lost 5 babies. It doesn’t even seem possible to type it out. 5 babies. Unreal.

I had a D&C yesterday. This is a procedure to surgically remove an incomplete miscarriage because my body wasn’t getting the memo to do it on its own. I opted for the surgical route because I did the medical way with my second miscarriage and it was excruciating. I was in labor with W for 17 hours and gave birth to her unmedicated, and I can safely say I would rather do that again than miscarry with the Cytotec. The D&C procedure went great and today I physically feel fine. Emotionally, well, who knows. We are taking it day by day. Thank God we are so busy with W and we are holding her extra close.

There may be a light at the end of this long tunnel. This is about to get pretty personal, just warning you. My doctor believes I may have what is called a septate uterus. This is a line of cartilage running through the uterus that increases the chance of miscarriage in women by about 40%. If embryos attach to this instead of the uterine wall, there is no blood flow for a placenta to form. This is likely what is happening with me, because the babies all stopped growing around the same time. While it is a relief to maybe have an answer, it means another surgery. It also just really, really sucks because these losses could have been prevented if we had known. The only way to test for this condition, though, is to have recurrent losses.

So as it turns out, Baby W was pretty much a miracle. The likelihood of carrying her to term and having a natural birth with my suspected condition was incredibly low.

The outpouring of love and support from family and close friends during this time has been incredible. We have received cards, care packages, phone calls, and hugs. While it is tempting to just hide away from the world to grieve, it is also so incredibly important to talk about this.

I wanted to share this story because of the impact being open with pregnancy loss has had on the people in my life. Since writing my first story about it, I have had numerous friends reach out to me with their own miscarriage experience because they didn’t know any other women who had gone through the same thing. You are NOT alone. Even once the miscarriage is over, there is still the lingering pain of a future unfulfilled. You remember your due date. Think about your child’s future milestones. Holidays. What you would be doing this very minute if you hadn’t had a loss. It is so hard, and I think that people who have shared this experience have a special connection. We should be free to talk and heal. I channeled some of my experience into Sonder Village with a character who dealt with multiple pregnancy loss and infertility. Writing is my outlet, and a part of me needed to put it in the book to process my own emotions.

Everyone deals with loss differently. Conor has been a rock throughout all of this even though he is grieving and heartbroken, too. I am so thankful to have such a supportive husband by my side throughout all of this. After getting the bad news at the ultrasound last week, I spent the weekend finishing my next book. It was almost like a ‘fuck you’ to the universe. I am STILL ME. I am STILL STRONG. I can STILL do great things. One of my bad ass friends ran a half-marathon the day after getting her terrible news to know her body was still hers. Another friend started a business. Women are incredible, and though we may hurt, we do not break.

Love,

Taylor, Conor, and W