I Cry Alone …

I've held onto this post all day. I've decided to hit publish since I've been told in the past that my sharing has helped others heal, knowing they are not alone. I'm currently in a good place, going out for dinner and ice cream and maybe some wine with my family. 

Warning: If you only like to read the positive, skip this one.

This post is one of those I need to write – for me. It deals with an event that day-to-day I don’t think about, but sometimes, like this week, I can’t ignore it without acknowledgement.

I’m not alone in my grief. Many others have gone through similar experiences, and even worse. I can rationalize that if it never happened then I wouldn’t have what I do now, and still the heart hurts.

Sept. 25 marks what would have been the due date of my first pregnancy. After going through infertility treatments, we finally received the miracle positive on the at-home pregnancy test. So excited, and to verify, that weekend I went to Planned Parenthood and received a positive result there, too.

The next week I went into my doctor, and on the ultrasound, there was no heartbeat. Blood tests confirmed the pregnancy levels dropped.

It doesn’t matter that I knew for only a short week. Whenever I’ve had my palm read, they usually see me having three children. We have two beautiful daughters, and I feel our family should have had a boy. Perhaps, it’s the one we lost.

Why the title? It’s not to be dramatic. Pregnancy loss continues to be one of those gray areas where people don’t know how to act. Even my husband – while understanding – shies away from the subject because it’s too difficult. At the time, he said he thought I’d never be the same again.

This week, it’s hit me harder than most years. Maybe because 13 is one of those magic ages. On the radio today, they were talking about teaching your children about grief and how to mourn. The psychologist said it’s normal to be sad, but to give yourself, say, a half hour and then go on. Set limitations. I don’t let the sadness confine or define me.

After a few days of laying in bed late at night, crying, while my husband slept, I called him during the day and let him know. Sharing that sadness made me feel better.

Within life, there are so things to be thankful and happy. But every now and then, we are forced to remember.   

Lots of love,

Louisa Bacio