We have a beautiful almost four year old daughter. When she was 9 months old we had our first loss. In the three years since, we have lost five more. Five of them have been at or before six weeks, and one last summer was at almost 14 weeks.
The hardest part about this is actually admitting that I am not okay. Our longest pregnancy (aside from our daughter) was our son last August. In a little more than a month, it will be his “birth”day. It won’t be celebrated, there won’t be a party. No one will bring presents, there won’t be any cake. To everyone but my husband, our daughter, and me, it will be just another day.
Knowing that that is how it will be tears my heart out. It makes me realize that however “okay” I appear to be, on the inside I am broken.
I don’t want help from others, and I know I need it more than ever. Appearing even a little bit weak scares me almost as much as losing another baby. Six losses is what I would like to be my limit, to be the end.
But right now, I am not okay. Anniversaries and birthdays and seeing others have their happy family has me feeling less and less okay every day.
I try so hard to fully appreciate and love the daughter I have, and I really hope she knows that, but some days the grief over what we have lost overwhelms me and the ache inside doesn’t go away. I love my daughter with all my heart, and I so wish I could say that she was enough for me, but wanting a larger family and then not being able to actually have that hurts.
So for now, I am finally admitting I am not okay, and that is okay.