Never Too Little to Grieve
I’ll never forget the first time I saw those two pink lines, after 6 months of negatives, 6 months of tracking, timing, and praying that this month would be the month. It was finally our turn. I woke up early in the morning and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I decided to head to the bathroom to take a test. I was not expecting to see anything, as I hadn’t for the months before. But to my surprise when I looked at that test – a second line. I couldn’t believe it. I stared at that test intensely and started to shake. Could it be? Could it really be? I had to take a second test, a digital, to be sure. PREGNANT. “Thank you, God.” I remember whispering. “Thank you!”. Tears of joy started to fall as I tried to control my trembling hands. An instant love for that baby overcame me. My mind started planning our future life together, as a family of 3. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband that it was finally our turn.
I’ll never forget the next day when I started spotting, wondering if it was normal. Convincing myself it must be normal. Google told me that it could be normal. As the spotting became heavier later that evening, I clung on to every bit of hope that this baby would be okay. We were in the process of moving into a new home, and there were movers coming and going as the day went on. I locked myself in our new, unfamiliar, empty closet so that no one would see me and I cried on the floor. I begged and pleaded with God to let me keep that baby. I went to bed that night unsure of our future, with a small bit of hope still.
I’ll never forget the third morning when I woke up to take another pregnancy test. The bleeding hadn’t gotten too bad yet. My hope was still there. I waited and waited for that strong second line to show up. In its place was the faintest hint of a line, not at all how it had looked for the past couple of days. I immediately felt a pit in my stomach as I realized this was the end. “No, no, no, no…. NO!” I cried to myself, to God. How could He let this happen to us? It was finally our turn. Why was it being taken away so soon?
I struggled with many thoughts in the weeks that followed. The grief of losing our baby. The shame I had for the amount of grief I felt. I felt that because my loss was so early, I wasn’t allowed to feel as much pain as I did. Looking back I wonder why I thought the loss of my baby’s life should be less than others? Why I felt the need to compare my loss with others? Why I thought my baby was too little to grieve?
During the time this was going on, I was in the process of entering the Catholic Church. And it was one of the first times I felt truly comforted by Catholic teachings. My grief was valid because life begins at conception. There’s nothing up for debate on when a baby becomes a baby. No technical jargon on cells or embryos or fetuses. Life simply begins at conception. My baby had life. And it was okay to grieve the loss of that life, no matter how short it was. Pregnancy loss at any stage is hard. I have had three losses now at different stages and each one was deeply hurtful and heartbreaking in its own way. The depth at which we are allowed to grieve shouldn’t be dependent on the timing of the loss or the size of the baby. Because no life is too little to grieve.
