Pregnancy After Miscarriage

As I sit here typing, I can feel Lydia kicking inside me. Each kick is a sigh of relief. Each kick is a sign that she is strong and healthy.

It took a long time for me to feel hopeful in this pregnancy. It took a long time for me to accept this pregnancy. All this because my last one ended in a miscarriage. (I talk about my miscarriage in this post.)

When we first found out we were pregnant I didn’t believe it. It happened so quickly after the miscarriage. It made it unbelievable to me because we had tried so long for the baby we lost.

Before our loss, Jacob and I had already begun to discuss names, talk nursery, and purchased our son, Grady, a “Big Brother” shirt to wear for our announcement. When we went in for our eight-week ultrasound, none of that mattered anymore.

In the beginning of this pregnancy, it felt easier to accept that something would go wrong than that everything would be okay. It felt like a safeguard surrounding any potential hurt that may come. I refused to get my hopes up. In my head I prepared for the worst. I overanalyzed every symptom; when I went to the bathroom I always looked for blood. It seemed hard to accept that another miscarriage wouldn’t happen.

At our eight-week ultrasound this pregnancy, I had flashbacks to the moment we learned our baby no longer had a heartbeat. I tried to stay calm. Then we saw and heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time, I was able to slightly let my guard down. We began telling our closest friends and family members. However, it wasn’t until well after our 12-week appointment that I felt any desire to go public with our announcement. I struggled to make plans for the new baby feeling as though I may be jinxing the pregnancy.

Then came the 20-week ultrasound which includes an anatomy scan and the gender reveal. Each night the week before was a new nightmare. I dreamt of cleft palates, missing limbs, and the worst case scenario, no heartbeat. I felt like I was holding my breath as we walked into the OBGYN office.

The tech brought up the screen and immediately I saw a heartbeat. I finally caught my breath. She showed the baby’s hands and feet, 10 fingers, 10 toes, I took another breath. She checked the baby’s face, no cleft lip or palate, another breath. She checked the spine, heart, brain, kidneys and bladder. Everything was functioning as it should. A tear of joy slipped out. Then the best news of all… “It’s a girl!” My hands shot up in the air, “YES!”

Looking back, I realize that my negative thoughts at the start of the pregnancy were not healthy, but I do feel like they were natural and understandable. I knew that my excitement over this pregnancy wouldn’t make it suddenly disappear, but my miscarriage was traumatizing and my fear was valid. When you become pregnant after a miscarriage, you’re literally carrying a constant reminder of what happened to you in the past.

It is amazing that something that will bring us so much love and joy could also bring so much fear, but each week and each kick calm the uneasiness. I still think of the baby we lost, Sweet June, daily, but am thankful that a new joy, Lydia Merritt, will be here in October.