I had thought a lot about this post, silly right? I dreamed of the day that we could share with the world that we were pregnant. I brainstormed and dreamed and tried to think of a creative way to tell the world that we were having a baby. I dreamt of a blog series of maternity outfits, nursery themes, and tips for expectant moms. After almost five years of marriage, we were FINALLY telling the “big news” people had been waiting to hear. I wanted it to be one of a kind, memorable, something you’d never forget.. but something tells me might not forget this post. While we were in Hawaii we found out we were pregnant! It wasn’t in a glamorous way, we actually found out in a public restroom before a luau. (So true to the hilarity in our lives!) I had already drafted a post about the story and had content scheduled for a week from now, when we hit the safe zone of pregnancy. We laughed at how it unfolded but quickly settled into our new and exciting norm. The moment I found out I was pregnant was the moment I became a mom.
Drew was ecstatic when we found out. The first night I couldn’t sleep. I was already thinking about the day we would send our kiddo to kindergarten, battling the teens, and someday college. My mind was in overdrive and sleep just simply wasn’t an option with the news we had received loud and clear. Drew stayed up the whole plane ride home from Hawaii and read a book about being a dad. We ordered the parenting books, started praying over our baby, downloaded the apps, ordered the maternity yoga pants, and cute little outfits for our peanut. We dreamed of the nursery, the sleepless nights, what he or she would look like. We shared the news with our close friends and families, we recorded the phone calls of announcing hoping to make a fun video for our baby to see someday and to know how loved they were from the very beginning. For the last ten weeks (almost eleven) I have carried, cared for, and loved this baby. But God had a different plan for us. Before you get excited or comment, “congratulations” without reading the rest, we will lose our precious baby.
It may sound weird but when we first found out we were pregnant, we talked about what we would do if this were the road we were asked to walk. This had always been a fear for me. There was something in the pit of my being that knew there would be more to our story of starting a family and that fear only grew as my pregnancy continued. Little did we know, we were on the road of loss, of miscarriage. We knew we would want to share, why? We’ve watched our friends go through miscarriage and do so in painful silence, we knew that we would need time and space to grieve and might not be able to ask for it, we also knew that God gave me this platform for a reason bigger than myself, lastly, we wanted so share so that we would have others praying for us.
Our first ultrasound was straight out of a movie, that day had felt like Christmas, we were eager to hear that heartbeat. We had our camera ready to capture the sound of that heart beating next to mine, I wanted to catch the tears when we heard our baby was alive and well. But suddenly there was silence, we could tell something was wrong right away but we remained hopeful. When you hear the words, “there is no heartbeat,” time stands absolutely still. I felt trapped, I wanted to get out of the office right then and there. Drew fainted, it was pure chaos, he was being cared for and the staff was incredible, but all I wanted to do was leave so I could cry. I forgot the the ultrasound photos at the doctors office and made it to the car in a hurry before I completely crumbled. I felt this pull to tell everyone, to get the prayer warriors out on our behalf in full force. This past week has been filled with waiting, praying, hope, and grief. We have been surrounded by so many prayers, so much love, so much grace. We are so thankful we shared the news of our little babe so that we could have a community surrounding us in our time of need.
I can’t sum up how it feels knowing that your baby might not be alive. I have laid my hands on my belly and willed it to live, I have begged God to change it, but somehow I started to feel peace: peace that this was part of our story, that this might be a way for me to change lives, that our little baby could be honored in sharing the story. My body has already changed so much to support this life, my heart changed the minute that test read positive, my vision for what our family would look like changed, too, and that’s just the start of it. So many people tell me they have had a miscarriage but they don’t talk beyond that. They don’t talk about the emptiness you feel, the frustration with the weight you have gained, the confusion of the hormones still surging your body, the fear that every stomach ache means the worst is coming, the checking and double checking to see if there is blood every time you use the restroom, the emotional toll it takes on your brain, or the way it can pull at your marriage that you cling so tightly to. My body is still holding onto this little life, it can’t let go, which makes the toll even harder as my pregnancy “progresses” with out a live baby inside of me.
I don’t know what is next for us, but for now I just ask you to stand by us and know that you are not alone if this has (or will) happen to you. We need to start the conversation about miscarriage. We need to break the silence. We need to bring it out of the dark and into the light. We need to stand together as parents, as women, as mothers, we need to lift one another up and celebrate life – no matter what stage it is at. If this has taught me anything, it is this: do not judge, you don’t know what storms I have asked her to walk through. The next time you want to pester someone about having kids, or you ask someone why they have yet to start a family, or how they couldn’t love a baby – remember the storms they may be silently facing. I want us to come to celebrate the first little baby Kutcher and the months we spent together growing. I don’t want us to feel shame or grief alone, I don’t want to feel angry when I see birth announcements or healthy babies, I don’t want to scream when I see people complaining about being pregnant or being a parent, I want to feel human as this form of motherhood settles as my new norm.
If there is any way to honor this baby, I think it’s in acknowledging that it was loved and it existed and it stands for something bigger than the embryo it was. Please, help us celebrate this little babe and if we can ask for anything, it would be prayers. On Wednesday we will say goodbye to the beautiful little life we made together.