Instead of coming home from the hospital this fall with two beautiful babies in their respective car seats, I came home with their ashes in little silver boxes on a gloomy summer day.
This was the post I was afraid to write, the part of my soul I was scared to reveal. As many years as I've spent sharing pieces of my life on the internet - whether through blogging or social media - I don't think I've ever gone this deep, been this vulnerable. Now doesn't even feel like "the right time", but I can't shake the feeling that someone else needs it more than my desire to keep it to myself. Not only are there are women out there who don't have the words to articulate what they're experiencing/have experienced when it comes to having multiple miscarriages and the emotions that come with it, but it also does me no good to keep holding it in.
I have been pregnant since the summer of 2021. Up until that point, I really didn't think having children was in the cards for me. In high school, I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome), which is basically a hormonal defect that affects women's fertility. I didn't think much of it back then, because I wasn't thinking about my health on that level quite yet. These past couple of years, however, has made me look at my health through a more cautionary lens.
Allow me to backtrack a little. According to my mom, I used to want a big family (10 kids who!?) at some point I can't remember, but as I got older, I just lacked interest in general of having children or ever becoming a mom. Cool Ass Auntie seemed like a more fitting title for the nomadic, entrepreneurial life I was and - in a way - still am aiming for. But that first pregnancy last summer revealed a side of me that I didn't know existed, where I looked at family life from a different angle.
June 16, 2021 was the day that the at home pregnancy test was confirmed by a prenatal care clinic. Seeing that smile radiate across my partner's face when I told him the news illuminated my entire spirit. The thought of raising a child with someone who was so excited about a shot at fatherhood helped me envision motherhood...parenthood...from a brand new, or perhaps long forgotten, perspective. My dreams would still flourish, I thought. There was this spark of hope that this would be one of the best adventures of my life and I was looking forward to what could potentially be the ride of a lifetime.
At the next ultrasound visit, the room fell silent, only a splotch on the screen what looked to be the remnants of a baby. Womb empty. That night I cried for hours on end; first into his arms holding me up, then alone in the shower as he listened from the other room, my hopes retracted into a shell of a person. My cries came from a deep well of pain, breath refusing to escape my lungs. I have never in my life felt that level of emptiness.
A few months later, hope not only renewed itself, but tripled, when we found out I was pregnant with TRIPLETS. Now, for someone who went from having problems producing eggs and not knowing if I'd ever have kids, given my diagnosis (or if I even wanted them) I was shocked beyond belief to see those three dots in that ultrasound, scared as hell of how life altering this would be. Again, I had someone in my life, always up for a challenge, whose enthusiasm was contagious, so the fear eventually faded and it felt like overnight, I developed a renewed energy to be the best mother I could be...of 3.
No heartbeats detected. And just as suddenly as the burst of positive energy hit, was as suddenly as the energy evaporated. You would think having recently experienced something like that, I'd be prepared to deal with it again, but that wasn't the case; the pain was still the same. The only difference between this time and the last time was I blamed myself entirely. For reasons I won't dive into, at least not right now, I was also checked into a behavioral/mental health facility around this time, where, upon being discharged, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Personality Disorder. To be honest, I don't know that I ever stopped blaming myself, especially with my the state of my mental health being defined in such a distasteful way. How did I stop 3 whole heartbeats from beating? I was supposed to be protecting them. That was all my fault are still some of those negative self-talk moments I have yet to fully dispel.
This is where the trauma bonds really starts to take root with my partner, because this was piled on top of other external circumstances. I can't say I was alone in any of these instances, which I'm eternally thankful for, but going through that with someone I love...felt almost like amplified pain. However, his ongoing optimism empowered me and, soon enough, the desire to try again to build a legacy was mutual, so we tried again.
Twins. Wow. It was a different kind of shocker to be pregnant with another set of multiples, but a shot at redemption never felt so sweet. This time, I couldn't stop thinking about how abundantly blessed I was to be carrying twins. We both could barely keep it a secret from our families, as we waited patiently through the first trimester to make the grand announcement, the one that would pull our families closer into the orbit we created of just us. Second trimester hits, we made it! Both babies developing as they should, apparently active from the 16 week ultrasound visit with 2 rapidly beating heartbeats. A baby announcement graphic designed to perfection saved on my laptop, ready and waiting to be sent out to our friends and family, complete with a QR code linking to a finalized baby registry on Amazon. All was well...
...until May 17, 2022, the day my water broke and my baby boy burst out prematurely, hanging from his ambilocal cord over the toilet. The trauma felt historical, like a generational curse plaguing my reality in the worst way. Dad not knowing how to respond to screams from the bathroom, not knowing what to expect if he came upstairs. He tried, but I had no words to tell him what was wrong. Mom rushes from work to be to my side. Still no words. A call to my boyfriend and I immediately give the phone to my my mom. Damn near hyperventilating, I was crying so hard. Ambulance rushing to my house. Journey to the hospital. A sliver of hope, because baby girl's heartbeat is still resounding loud and clear...
...but I guess she figured like it would be too lonely of an existence without her twin brother. So the next day, cervix fully dilated, I went into labor with her at 17 weeks, right at the 2nd trimester mark.
I've never known how deep pain could go until then.
Since then, I've sought out support groups on Facebook and worked my way through YouTube videos of women with similar stories. Through independent research and after consulting with my OBGYN, I discovered that many women go through this in some shape or form and are still able to have successful pregnancies. Some utilize medical assistance while others take a more holistic approach, all with the hope that one day, they will bring a child into this world, even after experiencing such devastating loss(es). Unfortunately, some aren't able to bare children, no matter how hopeful or how many fertility treatments they undergo. I pray constantly that those women eventually are able to make peace with that, maybe even look into different alternatives, such as foster care or adoption, rather than viewing themselves as a failure or less of a woman, something I still personally struggle with.
I admit, there's still a void that I am constantly wondering if I'll ever fully recovered from. That last one hit different, seeing them outside of my womb like that, the memory painted in my mind fresh and vivid. It's almost insane that I'd ever want to try again. In due time, I would like to. There must be some truth to the lyrics Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston that sang beautifully on the Prince of Egypt soundtrack, "There can be miracles, when you believe/Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill." What a perfect song.
Overall, I've come to the conclusion that - much like everything else in this life - healing from something like that (mentally, spiritually, physically, emotionally) is a process that takes time. Even though I am literally crying while typing this, I hope my pain can reach someone else and empower them to remain positive, no matter what the outcome. I want her to know that despite how difficult the journey may be, she is still a woman, who, no matter how broken she feels in the moment, is still whole, still beautiful, still worthy of love and divinely designed on purpose. That's the silver lining.
"For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope." - Jeremiah 29:11
"All things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them." - Romans 8:28
Chymere A. ♡
To D.S.M.H.J & D.I.S.H., Mommy and daddy love you endlessly. May our angels forever rest in peace.
oh my goodness, Chymere. i'm sending you the hugest hug through the screen right now. so, so sorry for your losses, and thank you for being brave enough to share your story.
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