Julian Jackie -- April 30 - May 12, 2018

This is a post about miscarriage. If you aren't up for reading it, totally fine.

Here are some resources, though. I wish I had known about them before. 

This is a Google doc that you can print out. Please share wherever you can, especially your parish office. Miscarriage Info Document for printing/copying and editing (I may add more, but my emotional energy for it has ebbed.)

However, if you don't have time or inclination to look through it, this site is the best I have seen so far. CatholicMiscarriageSupport.com (This site wasn't available when I lost Julian.)

I'm not looking for pity. I just need to tell my story. I know how important it is to hear the stories of others - we need to know we are not alone. I pray this might help someone else.

Our fifth pregnancy was our first where we were both like "YES. We are ready for this." The positive pregnancy test wasn't a surprise. It's the only one I didn't take picture of. April 30. 

We had decided not to tell anyone, even the kids, until the generally accepted "high chance" time of miscarriage was over. 

Then we changed our minds, and told the kids, and I told one friend.

The day we decided to tell them, they had a dental appointment. The office took x-rays with point and shoot x-ray guns. My kids didn't need them, but another patient in their open office setup did. The attendant asked if anyone was pregnant, and I indicated no, because we had decided not to tell the kids and they would have figured it out. Plus I heard you are exposed to more radiation flying than from a dental x-ray. It was May 11. We decided spur of the moment to tell the kids at dinner that night. Everyone was super excited. They were 5.5, 4, 2.5, and almost 1. 

The next day started normal enough. I had one bit of spotting in the morning, but that isn't uncommon. It's not a guaranteed sign that something is wrong.My husband and I weren't concerned, though I worried, a little, because I didn't let them know I as pregnant at the dentist. Then we got ready for the joint birthday party we were all invited to.

It was hot. I wasn't drinking as much water as I should have. When I went to use the bathroom, the bleeding was worse. I knew something was wrong. I went to the van and called my FertilityCare (Creighton NFP) instructor, because I didn't know who else to call, or what to do. She was as supportive as she could be, given the circumstances. Soon I rejoined the party, and the cramping started. My husband was concerned, and knew something wasn't right, but I wasn't ready to leave the party early, lest we be questioned about it. It's hard for me to not give what I consider a real/valid reason for things and I didn't want to have to face questions from concerned friends if I answered I wasn't feeling well. The one friend that I had told did notice I wasn't quite myself, and I just blamed it on the heat. Maybe if I had been better hydrated things would have been different. Dehydration can be a contributor to preterm labor.

We gathered the kids, and drove home. The cramps got worse. I wanted to put off going home. I felt something pass as I got out to check the mail. I went to the bathroom as soon as I got in the house. It was an unusual clot. I won't go into detail, but after 4 postpartum experiences, I knew this one was different. My husband handled bedtime, while I cried and searched the internet for images of miscarried babies, Catholic prayers that could be said, what the proper disposal of the remains might be, something to bring comfort to my soul knowing that this baby was never going to be baptized. I didn't find anything conclusive. I did find LostInnocentsBlog and determined I did not see a body. My husband came in after the kids were in bed, and we decided to bury the clot. He built the beautiful box above. It was about midnight by now, and we went out and buried it in an inconspicuous corner of the yard. He marked a little wooded stake with a cross, as a kind of headstone. We made up prayers, because we couldn't find anything online. 

The next day was Mother's Day. We went to mass, and I fielded "Happy Mother's Day" comments with as much grace as I could muster. I was bleeding. My insides felt awful physically, and my spirit was in agony. We tried to watch the Cleveland Cavaliers play the Celtics with the kids, as a "treat", and because "Mama doesn't feel good", but they quickly got bored, so my husband took them, and I rested and cried. What if I hadn't said I wasn't pregnant at the dentist? Did I do this to myself? (I asked the Dr. when I saw him for progesterone testing with our rainbow baby. He said no, the dental x-ray could not have caused it. Still took me time to accept and process that.)

Monday we told the kids, that Mama wasn't pregnant anymore, and the baby went home to be with Jesus. The 5 yr old instantly burst into tears. It was heartbreaking. We felt they had a right to know. It was their sibling after all. 

Later that week we made the calls and texts to family and close friends, asking for prayers and support. And letting grandparents know. That call to my mother was one of the hardest I have ever made. Never again will I wait to tell people. Because I can't tell people simultaneously that "We're pregnant, and we just lost the baby." at the same time again. I'd rather face the potential awkwardness of acquaintances asking how the pregnancy is going and having to tell them we lost it than live with this hidden hurt, because no one remembers because hardly anyone even knew. 

And I guess that's why I'm sharing this now. Because it still hurts so much. I never really cared for Mother's Day, because the "affection" feels so compulsory. Even if it is coming from a genuine place, I'm not going to really experience it that way because of the intense social pressure that exists to "treat mom right". Feel the same about Christmas presents. Last year the 12th was Mother's Day. I spent the whole year dreading the day, and grieving, that when it came I was fine. It was just another day. This year I was dreading it. Mother's Day. I kept seeing all these happy adds on Instagram and everywhere "Treat Mom Right! Mother's Day Sale! Best Gift Box Ever!" All it did was remind me of my loss, my grief, my Mother's Day is never going to be the same again. Walked around in a fog Friday and most of the day on Saturday. I grieved again. Sunday itself was mostly fine, helped by the social distancing, so I didn't have to say "Thank you" to anyone personally when wished "Happy Mother's Day." Hopefully I'll be able to genuinely wish it to the moms in my life next year. I don't think it's ever going to be a happy weekend for me. 

I started this on the 12th, which is the date anniversary of what we're calling Julian's passing. 

It took us a while to decide on a name. We wanted it to be kind of gender neutral, because we don't know if we lost a son or a daughter. We decided on Julian. The kids wanted to pick a middle name, and they picked Jackie, because it too could be both a boy's name and a girl's name. One of our family friend's has a daughter named Jackie, and a boy in one of our favorite storybooks is named Jackie. They figured it out for themselves. Having a name brought closure, and reality to it. The kids still talk about Julian, and remember that Julian died. We pray for Julian, and ask Julian's intercession, every night. 

At first I was afraid I would forget, I wasn't that far along, and simultaneously hoping I could forget, because it hurt so so much. Thankfully it's not as much of a surface pain anymore. Most days I don't even feel it. And I remember. It's a strange place, feeling like there's someone missing, and knowing that our rainbow baby wouldn't be here if Julian had stayed. What would they have been like? How much we would miss without our rainbow girl? Questions to avoid pondering, because there are no answers.

I finally decided to make a proper marker for Julian. I'm hoping to plant some bleeding hearts around, and maybe find a nice statue of Our Blessed Lady, either a Pieta, or Our Lady of Sorrows, or this beautiful statue if it ever comes back in stock. And I guess this is as good a place as any to stop.