Column: Life, love, and loss: a mother’s journey toward healing
A mother’s journey to healing after pregnancy loss
My heart pounded in my throat as I held the phone to my ear and listened to my doctor explain that the ultrasound showed, “no fetal heartbeat,” and two tiny babies.
Before my husband and I could celebrate the wonderful surprise of expecting twins, we were mourning the loss of them.
I never thought I was immune to miscarriage, I always knew there was a chance it could happen to me.
What I didn’t know was how it would change my life.
Similar to how I can never go back to the woman I was before having my first son, I can never go back to the woman I was before losing our twins. I will always carry the weight of what could have been. Wondering and dreaming about what our lives would be like with twins. What would they look like? Who would they have become?
The questions are endless, but the truth that carries me through the hardest days is this: “There will come a day when I will hold my babies. I will embrace them, kiss their faces and hear their voices. I choose to hold onto faith, believing that my babies are dancing and learning among angels.” The time I spend on this side of earth feels long, but I am beginning to see there is still beauty to be experienced while I wait. I hold tight to my family here and share in the joy of watching my son take his first steps.
These moments flutter past quickly and are easily missed while drowning in grief.
My heart is in two places, here with my one year old son, Judah, and my beloved husband, Justin while at the same time aching to be with the twins we lost.
I hope and pray that one day I will sit in a balance, of embracing the beauty and joy this earth has to offer, while patiently waiting and dreaming of meeting my babies.
Too often miscarriage is kept a secret and women suffer in silence and isolation. My husband and I chose to tell our family and close community when we lost the twins and I am so glad we did. I suddenly had an entire community mourning and honouring the tiny lives that were lost and giving me space to grieve. My community carried me through the hardest days following the miscarriage, and for that reason, I am so glad I chose to talk about it.
Reading stories from other mothers sharing their experiences of loss reminded me that I am not alone in my grief. There are others who know too well the pain of mourning a child you never got to hold.
Talking about our loss was crucial for my journey toward healing.
A friend of mine shared her story of miscarriage with me and said, “yes, we grieve, but because we have faith, we are not overcome by grief.”
We grieve, but we are not overcome by it.
I think about my twins every day. The sharp, immediate pain of loss has settled into a deep, dull ache.
I anticipate more waves of grief as the would-be due date approaches, or first birthday, or even a future graduation day, and I hold tight to the truth that anchors me.
I will embrace my babies one day, and as I wait for that day to come, I gently hold onto the joy of a new morning.
UPDATE: Katrina and her husband Justin are expecting a new baby in August, 2021 – a new sister or brother for Judah!
