A Surrogate for Heaven

We all have something we’re afraid to share; a sliver of truth that we think will make us appear weak in the eyes of society. It takes a rare form of courage to share or open up about something so personal. I read the other day that the two most powerful words in the English language are “me too.” When you expose those vulnerable areas, more often than not, you discover that you’re not alone in your struggles. You’re mad, sad, distraught, or lost? There are plenty of others out there who can answer, “me too.” Even people you look up to confront challenges just like you. Culture bullies us into not sharing our stories about pregnancy loss. Few of us have the fortitude to combat that force. When I first started writing this book and friends or family would ask what it is about, I would be a little hesitant in how I would answer. I didn’t write a romance novel, mystery, or thriller. I wrote something real, fresh, and personal. I had told a few friends and family a couple of details about my husband and I’s story, but until now, I hadn’t bared it all. Research for this book lead me to an article about Christie Brinkley and her experiences with pregnancy loss. That article wasn’t very kind. The man who wrote it criticized her for speaking out about her miscarriages, saying that her private life should stay just that - private. Individuals like the man who wrote that article are partially to blame for why the majority of women are too afraid to talk about their losses, making it difficult to find a safe place that provides support. Letting people, some being strangers, into that part of your heart is a bit daunting, but I’m telling my story. I’m not afraid of judgment or criticism. I’m not ashamed of my story. Being quiet about pregnancy loss needs to end and I want to help us get there. Silence breeds silence, so we need to stop being so dang quiet. I knew nothing about miscarriage until it happened to me. Although nothing can prepare you and you’ll never be able to fully comprehend what it’s like until you experience it, we can all do a better job of initiating that discussion. I don’t expect you to care about how everything in this book has affected me personally. I want to share my story so that you know you’re not alone. You’re not crazy, a horrible person, or unreasonable for feeling the way you do. I believe a great way to help ourselves heal is by helping to heal others. If I can help one person, this book will be a success. When I suffered through miscarriages, I desperately sought people to relate to and I hunted for stories that somewhat mirrored my own in one way or another, just to know that I wasn’t the only one. I always felt a sense of aloneness in that fact that none of my friends could relate to what I was going through. From what I knew, the friends who had tried seemed to get pregnant quickly and carried babies fearlessly and without much complication, if any. Hopefully, some of you will discover a little bit of yourselves nestled in the chapters of this book. If not, I’m glad, but instead I hope you acquire insight into a complex world that most are afraid to talk about or prefer to pretend doesn’t exist. A majority of the struggles my husband and I have encountered are not unique to us. Many couples have dealt with or are dealing with pregnancy loss, but too many are afraid to speak up, like it’s a dirty secret of which to be ashamed. I hope my story can disprove that and help anyone who has lost someone special. In the first weeks after losing a baby, it certainly won’t feel like it but things will get better and you’re far from being alone in this mess. The misfortunes that have touched my husband and I have given us experience useful in supporting others who are rowing in the same canoe. Sharing my story is therapeutic for my own benefit, but also I want to tell you our truths so that you can find your story, whatever that may be, in my words. When people try to cheer up or talk to women who have miscarried, they mean well. I know they do, but it doesn’t always feel that way. Being a woman who has been impacted by multiple pregnancy losses gives me the ability to empathize a little bit with the hurt thoughtless comments can cause. I won’t ever say that I know how you feel, because I don’t know how exactly you’re feeling. I can only tell you how I feel and let you know that I understand to an extent. I can relate on a certain level. I hope that after reading this book, you can navigate differently around ignorant or insensitive comments. Find a way to find your new “normal.” This book isn’t intended to be an instruction manual on coping, because there is no “right” way to manage the devastation that comes from pregnancy loss. It’s simply my husband and I’s story and it’s special to us. Despite the pain, I want to remember. I never want to forget a single thing, because I’ve grown as a person and developed a special connection with God in result. I want our children that I hope to have someday to read this and know exactly what their mom and dad went through trying to bring them into the world.