We had just finished going out with my little sister and her husband to an indoor rodeo on the last weekend that we had no kids. We had so much fun, just hanging out with one another. I remember looking at my sweetheart and thinking to myself, life could not get any better than this. My life was transitioning in so many ways at that point, and all for the better! I had someone that I wanted to spend every single big moment of my life with. I had kids that were growing up healthy, strong and wise. I had friends and family that loved me and supported me in my new endeavors. I was at a point in my career that was really trying me as an individual, and at times I felt like no matter what I said or did, I couldn't do enough or be enough, but it was minimal stress, so I didn't give it much thought. I loved my students and figured that my professional life would work itself out because I was working hard and I just knew that it would show and my efforts would be rewarded.
January 29, 2018 was by all means a regular, uneventful day for me. I was at work, I was teaching a virtual class and was going to school full time, raising four children and sharing my life with my amazing husband. I was searching for homes in the weeks before, which was a bit stressful, as house hunting can be. I had a great realtor and financing officer that made the process extremely seamless. This day was just like any other......except it wasn't.
I had just wrapped up a portion with my class and had sent them on lunch, and that was when it all happened for me. It was at that moment that I found out that I was miscarrying. I was miscarrying a baby that science had told me was not even there. You see, I took a pregnancy test and it was negative only four days before. My fear of sharing my story is that people will belittle what I have been through or tell me that it wasn't real, because my test was negative. Surely it was just stress, right? Surely I had just thrown my body off with all of the holiday stress previously. No, it wasn't.
I got up from my chair, and took one step, and immediately felt like I had peed my pants. Every single time that I took a step, it happened. I had fear in my eyes, as I walked over to my husband's chair that he was sitting in at work, told him that I was leaving to go home for lunch, and started walking to the door. I was scared that I would leave a trail of evidence of this unimaginable event. He was calling after me, "Babe! Babe, just wait and I will come with you. What's wrong?" He had to sprint to catch up to me. I laid my black coat down on the driver's seat, to prevent leaving a stain. I got in the car, and he sat down in the passenger's seat next to me. He asked me again, "What's wrong?" I just told him, "Something's wrong. I never bleed this much."
I walked inside my apartment and knew that I had to shower and change my clothes. I was desperately trying to clean up, my hands shaking, still denying that I had anything really wrong with me, because I had a thirty minute lunch and then it was back to the grind. We both had to get back to the grind. So, I cleaned myself up and my loving partner washed out my clothes in the tub as I did so. He has said that it looked like a crime scene, with how red the water was turning. I quickly chose out new clothes, got dressed and returned to work, both Arrick and I were stunned at what had happened and didn't really know what to do. I just shut it all down, because I didn't feel like I could call out of work and leave my students hanging. We were already stretched as a department, and I didn't want to disappoint my boss. I also spent so much time doubting myself, because surely science knows everything! It wasn't until I returned home that evening that I really started to process what was happening to my body.
I never did take any time off from work. I just simply made sure that I was in the bathroom about every twenty minutes, making sure that I was keeping things clean and hiding this secret of loss I was going through. Every time I came out of the bathroom, my husband just looked at me and I kind of just shrugged my shoulders. I fought off the thoughts that I was miscarrying, and it felt as though I was being ripped apart. I have spent many days since then, crying, weeping, sobbing in my husband's arms.
I went through many MANY counseling sessions with my therapist to work on this, and still do to this day. It wasn't until he said to me, "You know your body. You know what is normal for you and what is not. Do you feel like it was a pregnancy or do you feel like it was just a postponed cycle due to stress?" It was at that moment that I broke down and cried, quite uncontrollably, because I knew that it was a child that I had lost. I felt as though my body had betrayed me. That it had betrayed Arrick. I felt, and to some degree still feel, that I had failed him by my body not being able to sustain the pregnancy. And to this day, we never have again, though not for lack of trying to experience being parents together with a child that is created from my blood and his.
One of the things that our therapist suggested doing to grieve this loss was to choose one name for each gender that would never be an option to name a child again, because we were reserving those names for this sweet, innocent baby that was lost. We decided on Emma Rose Weis and Jackson Clay Weis. This helped us a lot, instead of just saying, I had a miscarriage. It allows us to actually give a name and to remember, with less guilt, that this life was lost.
I remember that day, like the back of my hand. I relive it all the time, and most often times, not by choice. I didn't want anyone to know that I was miscarrying, so I continued on with life, as if nothing happened. But it did. It did happen. Today, I hurt. And today, out of all the days in the year, it's actually considered socially acceptable for me to hurt.
This ornament broke this year, when our tree fell over for some unexplained reason. It was so much more than just an ornament. It was something that I had clung to for reassurance. Chip and Dale represent Emma and Jackson, and the year on it is the year we lost them. At our wedding, my husband and son wore cuff links that had the letters ERW and JCW on them. No one knew the significance of these, and most people probably did not even notice them. But for us, it was a way to have our entire family there with us, when we tied the knot. Telling the kids what had happened was many months after it had happened, and watching their little hearts break was hard. Watching my parents feel sad for what we had been through when we shared it with them after about eleven months of it having happened, was so hard.
I have spent a lot of time, pondering if I should share this at all, or if I should just deal with these feelings on my own. The reality is that when people learn of this defining moment in my life, they somehow treat me different, as if I were some fragile, delicate glass doll. People become reluctant to share their exciting news in their lives, which only hurts me more, in their attempt to not hurt me. Sometimes things are ironic like that, aren't they?
We had just finished going out with my little sister and her husband to an indoor rodeo on the last weekend that we had no kids. We had so much fun, just hanging out with one another. I remember looking at my sweetheart and thinking to myself, life could not get any better than this. My life was transitioning in so many ways at that point, and all for the better! I had someone that I wanted to spend every single big moment of my life with. I had kids that were growing up healthy, strong and wise. I had friends and family that loved me and supported me in my new endeavors. I was at a point in my career that was really trying me as an individual, and at times I felt like no matter what I said or did, I couldn't do enough or be enough, but it was minimal stress, so I didn't give it much thought. I loved my students and figured that my professional life would work itself out because I was working hard and I just knew that it would show and my efforts would be rewarded.
January 29, 2018 was by all means a regular, uneventful day for me. I was at work, I was teaching a virtual class and was going to school full time, raising four children and sharing my life with my amazing husband. I was searching for homes in the weeks before, which was a bit stressful, as house hunting can be. I had a great realtor and financing officer that made the process extremely seamless. This day was just like any other......except it wasn't.
I had just wrapped up a portion with my class and had sent them on lunch, and that was when it all happened for me. It was at that moment that I found out that I was miscarrying. I was miscarrying a baby that science had told me was not even there. You see, I took a pregnancy test and it was negative only four days before. My fear of sharing my story is that people will belittle what I have been through or tell me that it wasn't real, because my test was negative. Surely it was just stress, right? Surely I had just thrown my body off with all of the holiday stress previously. No, it wasn't.
I got up from my chair, and took one step, and immediately felt like I had peed my pants. Every single time that I took a step, it happened. I had fear in my eyes, as I walked over to my husband's chair that he was sitting in at work, told him that I was leaving to go home for lunch, and started walking to the door. I was scared that I would leave a trail of evidence of this unimaginable event. He was calling after me, "Babe! Babe, just wait and I will come with you. What's wrong?" He had to sprint to catch up to me. I laid my black coat down on the driver's seat, to prevent leaving a stain. I got in the car, and he sat down in the passenger's seat next to me. He asked me again, "What's wrong?" I just told him, "Something's wrong. I never bleed this much."
I walked inside my apartment and knew that I had to shower and change my clothes. I was desperately trying to clean up, my hands shaking, still denying that I had anything really wrong with me, because I had a thirty minute lunch and then it was back to the grind. We both had to get back to the grind. So, I cleaned myself up and my loving partner washed out my clothes in the tub as I did so. He has said that it looked like a crime scene, with how red the water was turning. I quickly chose out new clothes, got dressed and returned to work, both Arrick and I were stunned at what had happened and didn't really know what to do. I just shut it all down, because I didn't feel like I could call out of work and leave my students hanging. We were already stretched as a department, and I didn't want to disappoint my boss. I also spent so much time doubting myself, because surely science knows everything! It wasn't until I returned home that evening that I really started to process what was happening to my body.
I never did take any time off from work. I just simply made sure that I was in the bathroom about every twenty minutes, making sure that I was keeping things clean and hiding this secret of loss I was going through. Every time I came out of the bathroom, my husband just looked at me and I kind of just shrugged my shoulders. I fought off the thoughts that I was miscarrying, and it felt as though I was being ripped apart. I have spent many days since then, crying, weeping, sobbing in my husband's arms.
I went through many MANY counseling sessions with my therapist to work on this, and still do to this day. It wasn't until he said to me, "You know your body. You know what is normal for you and what is not. Do you feel like it was a pregnancy or do you feel like it was just a postponed cycle due to stress?" It was at that moment that I broke down and cried, quite uncontrollably, because I knew that it was a child that I had lost. I felt as though my body had betrayed me. That it had betrayed Arrick. I felt, and to some degree still feel, that I had failed him by my body not being able to sustain the pregnancy. And to this day, we never have again, though not for lack of trying to experience being parents together with a child that is created from my blood and his.
One of the things that our therapist suggested doing to grieve this loss was to choose one name for each gender that would never be an option to name a child again, because we were reserving those names for this sweet, innocent baby that was lost. We decided on Emma Rose Weis and Jackson Clay Weis. This helped us a lot, instead of just saying, I had a miscarriage. It allows us to actually give a name and to remember, with less guilt, that this life was lost.
I remember that day, like the back of my hand. I relive it all the time, and most often times, not by choice. I didn't want anyone to know that I was miscarrying, so I continued on with life, as if nothing happened. But it did. It did happen. Today, I hurt. And today, out of all the days in the year, it's actually considered socially acceptable for me to hurt.
This ornament broke this year, when our tree fell over for some unexplained reason. It was so much more than just an ornament. It was something that I had clung to for reassurance. Chip and Dale represent Emma and Jackson, and the year on it is the year we lost them. At our wedding, my husband and son wore cuff links that had the letters ERW and JCW on them. No one knew the significance of these, and most people probably did not even notice them. But for us, it was a way to have our entire family there with us, when we tied the knot. Telling the kids what had happened was many months after it had happened, and watching their little hearts break was hard. Watching my parents feel sad for what we had been through when we shared it with them after about eleven months of it having happened, was so hard.
I have spent a lot of time, pondering if I should share this at all, or if I should just deal with these feelings on my own. The reality is that when people learn of this defining moment in my life, they somehow treat me different, as if I were some fragile, delicate glass doll. People become reluctant to share their exciting news in their lives, which only hurts me more, in their attempt to not hurt me. Sometimes things are ironic like that, aren't they?
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