I was in my second trimester. This wasn't supposed to happen. Everyone knew I was pregnant, I had announced it on Facebook for God's sake. How was I going to tell the world that we had lost the baby when I had a hard time even saying the words out-loud? On July 9th I was induced, and delivered a tiny little boy. We named him Henry. Two days later we buried him with my husband's grandparents. I was reeling. I felt so lost. And different. I had been profoundly changed by the events of the previous week. I felt some sort of need to express that change outwardly somehow. I contemplated dying my hair purple or pink. Something. Something to show the world how different I felt. However, I didn't know how to demonstrate the profound change I had just undergone. At times, I almost felt like I looked different when I saw myself in the mirror, even though I knew I didn't. I knew I needed time to heal, hopefully that would help. I dreaded going back to work and seeing the look of pity in everyone's eyes. Or worse yet, having to tell the people who didn't know.
The ordeal was not over for me, however. Two of my blood tests done following the miscarriage came back abnormal. I tested positive for CMV, and had contracted it sometime during my pregnancy. Normally a pretty benign virus, it apparently can cause fetal demise if contracted during pregnancy I also tested positive for Lupus Anticoagulant. This can be a sign of many different problems; rheumatoid arthritis, lupus or several blood clotting disorders, to name a few. Lupus anticoagulant is also NOT a good thing to have during pregnancy Untreated, it can also lead to miscarriage, usually in the second or third trimester My poor little boy didn't stand a chance. It was very hard for me to know that my body had killed him. My body had betrayed both of us.
So here I am, three months later. Waiting for my appointment with the specialist. Still feeling different and not knowing what to do about it. I am overweight (okay, okay, obese) and incredibly unhappy. The time is now. I have to get healthy. I have to help myself. I don't want Henry to have died in vain. This is my chance to change my life a be a healthier, happier mom for the two children I have here with me. I need to use this as my wake up call.
Monday I am starting "Body for Life". A total mental and physical transformation, or so the book says. Good. That is what I need. I have had my doubts about whether I can do this or not, but I need to let go of those. I survived the loss of a child, I can survive 12 weeks of clean eating and exercise. This is my opportunity to prove to myself that I can do it. I am confident. My shopping list and meal plan for the upcoming week is made. I am excited to begin. I just need to go shopping and take my before photos.
This is the transformation I need...for my outside to match how I feel in the inside.
Oh, Sarah I am so sorry about your Henry (I have a Henry too) and what a challenging year you are having. But what a gift he has given you. The gift of hope for you, your health and your family's future.
ReplyDeleteBless your heart, Sarah. I had a stillborn baby boy in 1996 and your story sounds a lot like mine. It took me another 14 years to take control of my health and body but if I can do it, so can you. Feel free to email me or message me any time you need some cheering on -- I always have pom-poms handy. <3
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry Sarah to hear about your baby boy and to hear that you have health issues to deal with on top of your loss. Hugs to you. Wishing you the best of luck with your new life plan and the creation of a new you.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for the loss of your son, Sarah. Nothing is the same after a child dies. Nothing. I'm rooting for you and your plan for a new life. xoxo
ReplyDeleteYOU ARE SO BRAVE AND AWESOME, Sarah! Just sharing this with us will help tremendously, trust me. I'm so sorry for all of the pain and suffering you are going through but I love the idea of a mental and physical transformation (don't forget spiritual)to show your baby that he was not lost in vain. Rock on, sister! If I can help in any way, please let me know. I'm here for you!
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry for your loss, Sarah, but I love what you are doing. I have no doubt you can do it, too. We're all right here cheering for you.
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