This post is a little different than what I've been posting all month. You've heard stories from my side of the statistic- the "1's" in the 1 in 4. But for every 1 in 4, there are also the 3 in 4's- the ones who haven't suffered a miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss. We all have them in our lives. I'm constantly reminded of the 3 in 4's every time I get on Facebook. If you've suffered a loss, you know what I mean. It seems like everyone is pregnant and having babies. Everyone but you. And to be frank, it sucks.
But earlier this month, one of my 3 in 4's sent me this letter. By the first line, I was already crying. Her words touched me and reminded me that even though I am the 1 in 4 in our group of friends, I am not just 1. I am surrounded by the love, support, and prayer of my 3 in 4's.
I decided to include the email she sent as well, because I think it is an excellent preface to the letter. I hope that all my fellow 1 in 4's have 3 in 4's as great as mine. I know I couldn't have made it through without them.
. . .
So I have been thinking about you lots this month. Not just because of your blog and what this month represents, but I can't help but think back to a year ago. When we shared our news with each other. We celebrated. We were so happy and excited. And I still so badly want that for you.
So I wrote you this letter just to get some of my thoughts down on paper. At first I addressed it to you but then I thought-hey, Shar is reaching out to so many through her blog. So many women are grieving or struggling. So I took out our names--now this letter to you represents--oh I don't know what to call it---maybe an outside perspective? Encouraging words? Thoughts from a friend to all of those women struggling.
To my Friend,
1 in 4. I have to admit, I had no idea. I was
oblivious.
I didn’t know that 1 in 4 women suffer from
infertility or miscarriage or loss. Just hearing that number still doesn’t
bring to reality the emotions it should. A statistic, as startling as it is, is
kind of cold. And I know that if it hasn’t happened to you, those numbers are
probably just numbers. Now, I am not claiming in any way to know how it feels
to by “the one.” So far in my life, I have been one of the other three. But you
know that, Friend. Because you are our one.
You might be wondering why I, a mother of two,
never having lost a child, am writing to you about infertility and miscarriage.
As I sit here typing, I am kind of wondering what I have to say too. But that 1
in 4 statistic has been on my mind since last December. It is on my mind when I
look at the picture of the four of us hanging up in my house-young and naive.
It is on my mind when I see you smile at my son. It is on my mind when I am
rocking my children to sleep at night. So I am just going to write and share
because maybe you need to read my words. Or someone out there needs to hear
this.
I said before that I was oblivious to the
statistic but that doesn’t mean I had not ever thought about infertility or losing
a child. My parents battled infertility for many years before finally getting
pregnant with twins. Sadly, my brother and sister passed away at birth. As much
as it hurt knowing that I never got to meet my siblings, that hurt is nowhere
near the pain I know my parents felt and still feel. My grandparents still
decorate their stone for holidays. We always talk about how old they would have
been on their birthday. They have never been forgotten. My parents had me one
year later. I am an in-vitro baby. My parents wanted me so badly. I am so
thankful for their strength to keep fighting. I am so thankful that they didn’t
give up after all of their heartache.
Fast-forward through my teen years and into my
twenties and I would be lying if I said I never worried about not be able to
have kids. It happened to my Mom. It could happen to me. But it didn’t. After
the easiest pregnancy, I had my daughter. Doubt or worry never crossed my mind
once I reached that “magical” twelve week mark and saw a little heart flicker
on the screen. I was in the clear. Nothing bad could ever happen to me. Because
that is what we all think. Not me. I won’t be the one.
Two years later I found myself pregnant again.
Just as easy as the first. Doubly blessed. With no worries. Until that day in
December. When your world came crashing down. You had lost your little flicker.
You had lost your sweet baby. And there was nothing I could do.
I have to admit something to you Friend.
Although you were the one grieving, I, being a selfish human being, turned your
hurt into my own. I thought about the fact that my baby had lost a friend. And
in darker moments, I feared that I would lose a friend. I had no idea how to
provide emotional support for you at this time. I was too scared to hear your
voice, so I texted. I was too scared to see you, so I sent a gift instead. I
dreamed up all of these scenarios where you didn’t want to talk to me or how
this hurt our friendship. I put words in your mouth that you never said—“Why
have you been blessed with two and my little blessing was taken from me.” But
Friend, you never ever said that. YOU were the brave one that reached out to me
first. You talked to me first. You bought my little one gifts. You visited me
at the hospital. You held my baby. You amazed me. And you made me a better
person and parent.
You have brought to light this “secret” that
many women and families are struggling with. You have been open and honest and
so strong-even if you think you have struggled. You are allowed to struggle.
And please know that I am always, always here. You have taught me to live life
and to take nothing for granted. My life is a gift. My children’s lives are
gifts. Every morning I should wake happy and every night I should go to bed
thankful. You have reminded me of this way of life and I thank you.
But guess what, that is not always that easy. I
catch myself frustrated when my baby wakes at night. I complain about my two
year old’s tears. Or the laundry or the dishes or my day at work. And then I
see the little cross hanging in my son’s room or I see the cutest little white
butterfly at the perfect moment and I am quickly reminded of you. You would
give anything to have a baby crying at 3am. You would love nothing more than to
wipe away tears or fold little laundry all night. So instead of feeling sorry
for myself I have been praying for you and your chance. And I have been
praising God for our friendship and your strength. You and your husband and
your son have touched my family’s life. We are forever thankful for that.
Not too long ago I heard someone say that God
gives us children to raise to be his angels. And sometime he needs those angels
a little bit earlier than we would like. I do not know if this comforts
you…..but it comforts me in knowing that God chose your son to watch over my
littles. He visits us often. He is thought about just as much. We will
celebrate him always. He will not be forgotten by us.
And you. You will not be forgotten. Every week
I think maybe this is it….maybe she will call with some great news. And when I
do not hear any, I pray. You deserve happiness and joy and love and
excitement—you deserve a miracle.
My dear Friend, I hate that you are 1 in 4. I
do not know why—a question I know you have asked. But I do hope that you know
that you have helped so many and touched lives. Your beautiful butterfly has
changed lives. I just wanted to let you know.
Love ya.
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