Loss: When You Become a Common Statistic 

I remember.

I remember feeling struck at how Naïve I felt. Naïve despite knowing that "miscarriage" is common. I think It is fairly common knowledge that pregnancy loss commonly occurs. The statistics state that one in four women will experience a miscarriage, and ten out of one hundred known pregnancies end in early loss.  I now do not take for granted what a privilege it was to experience two fairly textbook term pregnancy's without the heightened anxiety that pregnancy after loss then demands. After naively carrying life into the world twice, I had two pregnancy's that abruptly stopped without so much as a whisper goodbye, twice in a row.

I remember excitedly telling our families about our expected February 2022 babe. I remember the hugs, the smiles, the genuine excitement to love on another Visser babe. I remember excitedly not drinking champagne when our good friends swept us away for our surprise wedding 2.0. I remember ordering a book titled "Our Dad the Superhero, ft Benen, Charlie and Baby" as a fathers day gift for Josh and way to tell the kids. I remember excitedly holding Josh's hand as we pranced in to our ten week dating scan ultrasound blissfully unaware. And then, I remember the initial feelings of devasting sorrow, humiliation and numbness. Just like that I became part of a common statistic, when that sweet babe who measured nine weeks and one day no longer had a heartbeat. A missed miscarriage. I remember the pain of having to update our family and the confusion towards my body. I remember fighting the urge to light the superhero book on fire when it nonchalantly arrived on the doorstep the next day. I remember being given the options and contemplating how to proceed. I remember having to make a choice between expectant management and medical/surgical management while swirling around in a sea of grief and confusion. I remember choosing the latter, going through the motions, and being carried and supported by wonderful friends, collogues, care providers and family as I recovered. Life went on, as it does, and we eventually opened our hearts up to growing our family again.

I remember seeing that strong positive line. I remember hugging Josh with tear filled hopeful eyes trying to be excited, but feeling almost debilitating anxiety and fear. As we wrapped our heads and our hearts around expecting another baby in July 2022, I remember Josh reminding me that we were allowed to be excited; and that if we had to cross that awful bridge again then we would do that together hand in hand. I remember going to Victoria for a fun filled weekend with some of my closest friends, it was early december and I was nine weeks pregnant. Joyfully telling them our hopeful happy news amidst the chaos of Christmas activities with all of our tiny humans combined. I remember quickly going to the bathroom before we left for an extravagant Christmas light tour and the heart sinking feeling of seeing spotting. I remember feeling helplessly worried and robotic as I went through the motions, holding Benen and Charlies hands and soaking up the joyous Christmas lights that evening. I remember facetiming Josh sobbing, and the feelings of dread as I paged my midwives the next day, as I calmly drove home with my blissfully unaware big kids. I remember my dating scan being expedited and I remember the dreadful visual of my very loved nine week baby who measured only five weeks. We were crossing that awful bridge again. Another missed miscarriage. I remember the purgatory of expectant management and then the subsequent recovery of not only my body, but my heart and soul as we endured the process again. 

I went from baring my heart to the world, and sharing my life to going inward, sheltering my heart and my life as a whole. I processed a lot within this year of my life and eventually concluded that I am healthy, I am strong, I have endless love to give, and still, it seems that sometimes, somethings are just not meant to be; no matter how bad you want or need them.

Life goes on, and while we continued to enjoy the highs and lows and everyday mundaneness of this life, despite our losses we both found ourselves desperately wishing and hoping to create life again, knowing that our family was still missing valuable pieces.

So, despite recurrent loss, we decided to do some more hoping, some testing and exploring. The explorations lead to a recommended MRI for further exploration and while we waited for that appointment we saw a naturopath and tried to just relax. We continued doing life, loving our kiddos, committed to a sense of positive health and wellness, and then, all of a sudden Easter breakfast out at the lake tasted weird, the wine and coffee were gross and my cycle was late.

Terrifyingly exciting.

I protected my heart, fiercely in those early weeks. Through the course of my entire fifth pregnancy, as we checked in on a growing healthy baby, a sense of relief flooded through me week after week.

We went on to meet our expected December 2022 babe on January 2, 2023. you can read about that here and here.

I know the love of all three of my earth side babies, but I remember  and love the two that couldn’t stay too. So if you're reading this and in the throws of this purgatory of wishing, hoping, dreaming. I'm here with tears running down my cheeks sending you all the love and hope, and I'm so sorry that we're part of the same club.