I’ve experienced a great deal of loss in the last few months—more than I could ever imagine. My world came apart, and then came apart again, and then again. Every time I got knocked down, I brushed it off and stood back up without fully catching my breath. I pushed down my feelings and worked to “move on”- only to learn that with such monumental loss, you never move on and return to normal. You adjust what normal looks like.

On November 6th, 2023, my mom passed away. I was thankful to have been with her in her final moments, even though she was not able to communicate or move. It wasn’t unexpected, but it wasn’t expected either if that makes any sense. I went from shopping for Thanksgiving table decor one minute, to signing her DNR and hospice release paperwork, and getting on a red-eye flight hoping I would make it in time.

I also found out that the same day my mom passed I was pregnant. Again, it was not unexpected, but we had been having trouble getting pregnant and I was just prescribed fertility medicine to start with my next cycle. Talk about a whirlwind of emotions that day.

On December 2nd we had my mom’s celebration of life. Regardless of calling it a celebration, it was heartbreaking, traumatic, heavy, emotional, and exhausting.

The next morning, I started bleeding in the Atlanta airport, alone at 6 am, with an eight-hour trip home ahead of me. I spent the next week miscarrying, processing, and recovering from losing the pregnancy and losing my mom. Spoiler alert: a week is not nearly long enough for either of those losses on their own let alone at the same time.

January 6th I found out I was pregnant again, unexpectedly. I kept my guard up, I tried not to get attached because I was nervous and anxious. As soon as I saw the positive test, I immediately started crying out of fear of another loss. And that made me feel guilty that I wasn’t celebrating this pregnancy regardless of the outcome. Anyone who has experienced pregnancy knows that the moment two pink lines show up, your heart grows for that baby, and attachment is inevitable.

On February 13 I found out that the pregnancy was not viable, and over the next few days, I miscarried again.

The hurt of the second miscarriage still stung, but it also felt numb. I didn’t cry as much, I didn’t talk about it as much. I couldn’t find words and I was confused and lonely.

With everything that happened in such a short period, I started to feel like a dartboard. I stopped cringing as much for fear of getting stabbed. I stopped wincing at the pain when it would come. I walked around (and still do), with holes in my heart, that I’m not sure will ever be healed.

I’ve heard it’s common that grief doesn’t get easier. You just get used to it every day, you get better at hiding it or masking it and making it part of your daily routine. To everyone else, it looks like you’re coping well, but deep down you know your world is forever altered.

If you’re reading this and nodding your head, you’re likely part of one of two clubs: the miscarried moms club, or the dead moms club.

I’ve learned that with grief, there is no end. There is no closure. It’s a constant circle with ups and downs. I’m still learning to accept the ride and continue without the expectation that it will pass. I’m opening up and being vulnerable by sharing this because when I find someone dealing with something similar to me, it makes the isolation feel smaller. If I can lessen the isolation for even one person, and have one person take a deep breath and think they aren’t alone, it would give all of this some reason and meaning.

I’m holding hope that the challenges I’m facing will make me stronger, that there is some reason for it that I just can’t see right now. I’m accepting that the grief that comes with losing my mom will never go away because grief this big means love this big, and I’ll never stop loving her. I’m also accepting that one day I’ll have my rainbow baby. It helps to think that perhaps I can be the 1 in 4 to prevent it for someone else- I know that’s not how it works but it helps me get through the days believing it.

In the meantime, I’m prioritizing my mental health. I’m taking a break from work for a few weeks to spend time meditating, doing yoga, reading, grieving, doing therapy, and spending quality time with my little one. I need to reset and recharge. One of my core values in life is to fill my cup so that I can fill the cup of others and I’ve lost sight of that core value over the last few months. Through all of this, I’ve already learned a great deal that is worth sharing alone:

– Find your core values, and stick to them
– Prioritize family over everything, time is truly a thief
– It’s okay to ask for help
– Be kind. You never know what someone is going through

J-