This year I had the joy of welcoming my son into the world. It seems hard to believe but he recently turned eight months. My journey to have my son was not a nine month, journey but rather a 2 and a half year journey that included two miscarriages and a third pregnancy which resulted in my beautiful baby boy.
It was a very long, and at times, a very painful journey. To say otherwise would not be telling the whole truth. For the first time in years I feel comfortable sharing parts of my story in the hopes that it will help someone else.
I could never actually tell my story as it was happening or as I was living it in real time. It was far too painful and confusing for me to share as it happened. I hope those that may read this and perhaps may be thinking critical thoughts, will rather be kind and listen to my story.
So here we go.........
After my first miscarriage I was given the advice to try again in two to three months. However my mind was so far from even wanting to try again I could not even consider it. When I got home from Ocean City, Maryland where I had my first miscarriage in September of 2014 and visited my OB they listened to my story, but I left without any information on counseling or mental health. I was simply told to try again.
Days later the shock of the situation wore off and the reality set in. I was completely shattered. Yet I had no clue where to turn or who to ask for help. I was told miscarriage was common, yet I found myself completely devastated. I called support groups but couldn't find exactly what I needed. I called a few therapists but wasn't sure they were the right fit. So I gave up making phone calls and I got very depressed.
Eventually I pulled myself out of it with the help of family and friends. Then in May of 2015 we decided to try again and wouldn't you know I was pregnant again.
But I knew things were 'off'. I could sense it this time and a week after my positive test I found out that I had another miscarriage. When I asked my doctor for testing they said I needed to have three in a row to have testing done. Needless to say I left that practice after that appointment. There was no way I was going to open myself up to pregnancy again without testing.
This time, I didn't get sad. Instead I got angry. Very angry. I was angry about the silence of miscarriage and how it doesn't help, but rather hurts those of us who are looking for answers.
I started researching miscarriage and how it was handled in other cultures. That's when I came across Jizo who is a figure of Japanese Buddhism. Jizo is the protector of deceased children including miscarried children. It's hard to explain the joy I felt when I learned another culture recognized this loss when my own didn't.
I found someone who made these statues in the USA and promptly ordered one. Shortly after it arrived I became pregnant with my son. After every ultrasound I placed my ultrasound photo next to Jizo. It gave me great comfort when I needed it the most.
Author: Sarah Warman
I like to run, take pictures and write. I've combined all three in this blog.