Episode 08: Baby Blue
It’s been months since I have felt both capable and inspired to write a post here. I thought about it often, but both my brain and fingers felt clogged. Pathways for creation hindered by a jumble of thoughts, experiences, transitions, and change.
I sit down today, having imagined and hoped that I’d be ready to take on a next season of writing as I embarked on the journey of pregnancy. A mind-boggling, beautiful process ridden with uncertainty, physical/mental/emotional change, worries, fears, anxieties, hope, excitement, anticipation, and an utter lack of control. I suppose I am still doing that, but in an entirely different situation than I’d hoped for.
5 days ago, it was confirmed that the 10 weeks we’d spent wrapping our minds and hearts around the growing embryo inside of me had been cut short. The pregnancy had stopped developing at 7 weeks and a handful of days and there was no trace of an embryo. Sad, shocked, heartbroken, numb, depressed, angry, hungry for information, and curiously anxious about the future.
My mantra throughout those first 10 weeks was trust your body - much of this a coping mechanism to soothe the feelings that come with that utter lack of control. When I really thought about it, there was no other choice. My mind meandered through periods of angst, uncertainty, hope, excitement, anticipation, and an endless imagination of the future - what this little being would look like, what it would be like to hold them for the first time, what the transition to parenthood would be like, and so much more.
“Trust Your Body, Mikaela” - I’d tell myself as I observed and noted changes, new symptoms, and the smattering of “what ifs” that come along with. I’d think about all the ways in which my body had served me, supported me, healed me - the times I’d pushed it, built and nurtured it, watched it grow, and accepted it as it changed.
What is more apparent to me now though more than ever, is that trusting your body also means trusting it to know when something isn’t right, trusting that it is a magnificent, complex, and utterly perplexing thing that will never truly make sense and will at times require a profound need for acceptance when things don’t go as we hope.
Over the past 5 days I’ve exchanged words, hugs, sadness, and hope with friends and family. I’ve felt alone. I’ve felt comforted. I’ve felt afraid. I’ve felt worried. I’ve felt anxious. I’ve felt gratitude. I’ve felt loved. I’ve felt seen. I’ve felt connection.
Connection to others who have endured a similar experience. Connection to myself as I reflect on and attempt to process this experience. Connection to my husband who is enduring all of this with me and whose unwavering love, comfort, and support I am endlessly grateful for. And connection to my body as I continue to focus on trusting in its wisdom and trusting it as a guide to know what to do next.
According to the ultrasound, the pregnancy stopped developing at 7 weeks and a few days - around if not on the day of my 33rd birthday. At that time, the embryo would have been the size of a blueberry - my mother lovingly referring to it as baby blue.
So, here’s to Baby Blue. Thank you for showing me what my body can do. Thank you for teaching me to trust my body in an entirely new and more profound way. Thank you for the connections you have fostered in such a short amount of time. Thank you for pushing me to a place I’d never been before. Thank you for giving me hope. Thank you for allowing us to see ourselves as parents. Thank you for helping me to truly see myself as a mom for the first time. Thank you for your light.
As I’ve written here before, we all have our own unique journey. Baby Blue - you will forever be a part of mine.
