The Power of Four

This last week has been hard. I really didn’t expect it to be this bad. I guess it took some time for the realization of what was happening to sink in. Late last week, I could go through the motions. I was functioning and doing OK. In my mind, I had convinced myself that I had gotten used to this. I had losses before and survived, this was just another bump in the road. Over the weekend it really hit me, and the reality of it continues to pummel me every day.

I have lost 4 children. FOUR. There is something about that number that knocks the wind right out of me. When I stop and think about it for even a second, it literally feels like someone has hit me in the chest, and I have to concentrate on breathing. I have lost more children than most people have in their lifetime.

I know there are people who probably think I’m being dramatic about this. The last 3 were early losses – do they even count? Thankfully, no one has ever asked me that question, but I know that people think it. I have to admit that I struggle with it too. The loss of Vivienne was different, I can’t deny that. We had nearly 6 months of planning for her arrival. We felt her kick. We saw her heartbeat. We held her as she slipped away from us. We kissed her tiny face. And we have her remains well protected in our home. There is a tangible reality to Vivienne that we don’t have for the other babies.

Yes, we lost them very early. Yes, they never had a chance to survive. But each of them was real. We loved them from the moment we knew about them. We made plans for each of them immediately – calculating a due date and thinking about the time they would be with us. If you’ve ever taken a pregnancy test, you know that the dreams and planning start the very second you see a positive. You immediately feel a sense of responsibility for this growing life. The love and instinct to protect snap right into place. Those 3 babies were as loved and wanted as any child, including Vivienne.

After the first early miscarriage in January, I struggled with what to do to honor that baby. He/she doesn’t have a name or even a nickname. A fellow loss Mom suggested that I give the baby a symbol – something that represents them that I can use to remember them. Vivienne has her rainbows, so after each loss, I try to figure out a meaningful symbol for each baby. Baby #2 is a sun, as we’d just taken a trip to Florida. Baby #3 is a heart, because we found out we were expecting on Valentine’s Day. I’m still figuring out the symbol for Baby #4. I don’t want to arbitrarily pick just anything – I want it to mean something and be special for that baby. Each was special and loved, and I want them to know that.

Each loss has been heartbreaking for us, but there is something about this latest loss that feels like a heavier weight. After experiencing loss again and again, I’m feeling more and more like I’m caught up in a raging current. I’m trying to pull myself above water and fighting to take a breath, but the waves keep pushing me down. I’m doing my best to tread water, but I have to wonder how many more waves will crash in and how long the storm will last.