The Silence Behind Saying “I’m Great”

There seems to be a particular code of etiquette around announcing a pregnancy.  Especially one after a loss, like you shouldn't tell anyone because if you end up having another miscarriage, you have to tell people again you've lost another baby.  "Congratulations! But you're going to keep it to yourself until you're out of the danger zone, right?"  I wrestle with that often. Who will I tell? When? After all, not telling people until a specific week of gestation doesn't automatically guarantee that my body will work correctly. And that the life of the unborn child inside my womb is protected because no one knows, right?  This 'rule' or 'recommended' about keeping new life a secret is silencing mother (and their partners) and forcing them into isolation. Why can't we just be excited for them in their pregnancy and, God forbid, if the time comes morn with them if it ends in a loss? What about life and death regarding pregnancy forces us t...

 To the person, I was before my loss,    By the time you read this, I’ll be long gone. Nothing more than a fading memory of who we once knew ourselves as.   Maybe when you think of me, calm her, you will be able to smile, and maybe you will be able to replace your sorrow with the joy that once lived within us. Maybe you will remember that vibrant life and love that used to surround us. Instead of this encompassing grief that now swallows us. Robing you over and over of the wife you wish you had. A moment full of pure Bliss and laughter that echoed through the night. Instead of the muffled tears or, even worse, the deafening silence.   The darkness is so dark anymore. Fear, anger, guilt, regret, and loneliness all dwell here. There is no life to be seen. There is no light, but even you used to say even the darkest part of a shadow proves the sunshine.   In those moments when you can still find life remember that I once lived too. But this has al...

 I don’t expect this to get any attention because that seems to be the norm, but: 2 months ago I was in one of the darkest places of my life. I was standing nose to nose with the death who was telling me to do it, to take one more step.  Death was daring me. Taunting me. My life was literally being held to together by a single frying thread. I was SECONDS away from dying. I couldn’t see anything, I had no reason, no drive. No desire to live any longer. There was no life to be found in the darkness, the silence was so loud it was deafening.  I felt completely invisible, I had sat on all the couches I could, showed up on every door step I knew of, and eventually people started disappearing text and phone calls wouldn’t be answered, messages left unreturned, offers to come hang out, to sit, to pray all stoped. Hugs didn’t t exist, I was alone. And it stung like a thousand fire ants bites. So I tried every grounding technique, I had taken every anxiety and depression medicati...

  Who is she?  In short, that’s Laura. That’s me. But who is that person? Deeply? Today I don’t feel like much of anyone. Just an empty hole or the person I used to be. The person I would like to get back to. The person that I’d like to call to life, to command to live again. So who is she?   She is fire. Raging wild, uncontrollable, and unpredictable but in a good way. Like a raging fire, she leaves a mark on everything she touches. She ignites love, Grace, and compassion, she Sparks Joy, and hope, and she leaves a trace of empathy, and understanding. She loves so deeply and hurts even deeper. But she loves, and she lives.   People might say she loves all living creatures but knows that spiders and ants should be crushed. She’s got this way of welcoming everyone and everything giving them a safe place to be who they are. She fights for those she loves. She fights for those she doesn’t. She is a giver. Sometimes she gives too much coma and forget...

   Dear Whoever,    This is an open letter written with the hope of bringing understanding about what it is like to lose a baby. If you have ever lost a baby yourself, know someone facing a miscarriage, or even if you have never heard of anything about miscarriage until this now. Wherever you are, whoever you are, this is only my story, but in a way, the story of other moms who have lost a pregnancy, and suffer from the overwhelming emotions of miscarriage.    These are my experiences caused by the loss of my baby. I didn’t just lose my baby; I lost many other “things.” I lost my dreams. Dreams of having beautiful birth with a happy ending. Dreams of bearing my husband’s first child, and giving my living children another sibling. I had dreams of celebrations of the life of my baby. Gender reveals baby showers, birth announcements, and many years of birthday parties. I lost myself. I lost my identity. Who am I? Am I just a mother of my living children? C...

June 5th, 2022  I'll never forget this day; it was one of the hardest days since my loss; it was the day my pregnancy was officially over. My body had stopped producing the HGC hormones, and they had finally left my system for good.    “HGC is >5, which is considered to be zero” Those words were attached to the final result of the final blood draw from my loss that morning In my "My Chart" account. I have one good vein. Everyone can hit it, the other ones hide deep in my body, and just like me, this vein was tired. Tired of being drained of the life that runs through it. Tired of being stabbed with sharp objects it can’t control. Tired of being sucked dry. Raw. It had been 5 weeks, and 2 days for the entire world, except for me, it had been just a few hours. My pregnancy was officially over; the baby was gone, the hormones were gone, and the life I wanted to have with them was never to be known. There is so much pain that continues to dwell here, though. So many tears ...

 This feels like a fire coursing through my veins. As I embark on my next journey to expanding my family, I'd be a complete liar if I didn't say I feel like you could knock me over with a feather. I feel completely weightless; the air that surrounds me is thick, heavy, and hot. My tears burn my face as they fall from my eyes, rolling down my cheek. Please, don’t get me wrong, I am genuinely excited; however, so much fear and anxiety come along with trying to conceive again after a recent loss. The what-ifs, uncertainty, and doubt flood the very front of my mind like clouds that refuse to blow over, they hover above you in the air building up pressure until they can no longer hold it in anymore, so they explode, pouring out all the weight they have carried.  My mind races, Can I do this? Am I actually ready? What will I feel if I do get pregnant? What If this is just another unsuccessful cycle?  How will the hormones affect my mental health?  What if....I.....lose.....

No Hello, Only GoodBye Written by: Laura D Gancarz How does a mother say goodbye; When she never got to say hello? The pain so deep in my heart; for a baby, I will never know. My little tiny baby boy; who now lives within my soul. God called your name; And took you home to fulfill your heavenly role. My heart longs for all those words; you'll never get to say. I cry so much for you still each and every single day. My child, you're not forgotten; even though we are apart. For your Spirit lives on inside; the depths of my heart. I will never get to hold your hand; or watch you play ball. My tiny little baby; so perfect yet so small. I'll never get to cradle you; comfort you as you cry. I'll never get to sing to you; your favorite lullaby. Forgive me, little one; as I shed another tear. It's just my way of wishing; that you were still here. Now spread your wings, little one; and fly as high as you can go. For here on earth, you did not bel...

  My Little Baby Boy Written by: Laura D. Gancarz How does a mother say goodbye; When she never got to say hello? The pain so deep in my heart; for a baby, I will never know. My little tiny baby boy; who now lives within my soul. God called your name; And took you home to fulfill your heavenly role. My heart longs for all those words; you'll never get to say. I cry so much for you still each and every single day. My child you're not forgotten; even though we are apart. For your Spirit lives on inside; within the depths of my heart. I will never get to hold your hand; or watch you play T-ball. My tiny little baby boy; so perfect yet so small. I'll never get to cradle you; comfort you as you cry. I'll never get to sing to you; your favorite lullaby. Forgive me, little one; as I shed another tear. It's just my way of wishing; that you were still here. Now spread your wings, my little baby boy; and fly as high as you can go. For here on earth...

  Oh, how today hurts. I need you. The message in church a few weeks ago was about Community and coming alongside one another. Sharing moments with others. Things are more meaningful and powerful and significant when sharing them with others. Good and bad, the most tragic moments of our lives carry a more profound depth when others come and sit with us in the darkness. We are drawn to others; science proves that without social interactions, we sub-come to disease, both physically and mentally. It’s Even life-threatening at times. My Miscarriage has been one of the most isolating things I’ve ever experienced; it has caused me to withdraw, and it has driven others away. I have been fighting the most unfair battle completely alone. Falling apart behind closed doors, crying myself to sleep, unable to process the pain in therapy, walking around completely numb, because this hurts. Please come sit with me, because it’s been 94 extremely loud, deafening days inside my head, and very silen...

  Hold Him God Written by: Laura D. Gancarz Hold my baby God; grab his hand tight. As he walks though those gates of heaven; Hold him God with all your might. Hold my baby God; for he is just so small. Promise me God, you will comfort him; should he stumble and fall. Hold my baby God; watch over him as he grows. Tell him his family loves him; please just make sure he knows. Hold my baby God; teach him how to fly. How I wish I could see; as he navigates the heavens sky. Hold my baby God; snuggle him in your embrace. Kiss him on the check for me; of his sweet tinder face. Hold my baby God; for I will never know. Why did you take him God; why did he have to go? Hold my baby God; This just doesn’t seem fair. Nurture him and mold him; God, give him new life there. Hold my baby God; and God hold on to me. Help me to remember God; in your presence we can both be set free. Original photo by Whitney Carroll Photography Edit...

 Grief is much like a tsunami.    At times it seems like the pain and sorrow are getting less and less, and you are gaining more and more distance from the water.    However, you sit and get hit by a massive wave because, just like in a tsunami, you think the water is getting more shallow. In reality, it's just building up off in the distance like a loaded spring, just waiting for the right time to break.    You're fine, and then you stand up, and you feel your heart sink. Flooded again. A pain so immensely great it physically hurts. It takes your breath away and knocks you off your feet.    I have climbed so many mountains and crossed through some dark valleys in the past two months.    And just when I think I've got it under control, I'm reminded that my reality is that my baby is gone. Never to be held.    Everyone around me seems to be pregnant, announcing their babies' gender or sharing their birth announcements, othe...