On October 15th:

It’s October 15th in a few days.  October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day.  This is a day that’s close to my heart, as I had a devastating miscarriage in 2011.  Prior to that point, miscarriage wasn’t something that had crossed my mind, but I soon learned that it’s very common, very emotional, and very taboo.

I originally wrote ‘Break the Silence‘ in October 2012, and I re-post it annually.  I pour my heart out around this time of year; the purpose being to try to lessen the stigma of miscarriage and the awfulness that surrounds it.  And every year, I have women email me to share their stories of grief and loss.  Sometimes these women are complete strangers who found me through my blog.  Sometimes these women are patients who haven’t told me about their experiences.  Sometimes these women are friends, sometimes good friends….. and most times I have no idea they’ve been through this pain until I receive their email.  This tells me that there is still stigma, there is still silence, there is still suffering, and there is still work to do.

This is my story:

(*originally published on October 9th, 2012)

I struggled to write this post. Really struggled. Not just with the emotion of it all, but with the feelings of vulnerability and complete exposure that this topic brings out in me. But that’s why it needs to be written…..to break the silence, prevent the stigma, and end the taboo surrounding miscarriage.

I had a miscarriage last year. We lost our baby on April 6th, 2011, at 11 weeks and 6 days gestation. One day shy of the magic ’12-weeks-pregnant’ mark where the stats on miscarriage decrease dramatically. I was wrapped up with the excitement of another baby, and we were already envisioning life as a family-of-four. In a cruel twist of irony, we had signed the papers for our bigger-with-an-extra-bedroom-house the weekend prior. I had told friends and family of my pregnancy, even casually mentioned it to acquaintances, and sorted through bins of my maternity clothes. And then it all ended. My miscarriage was very sudden, very graphic, and very traumatic. There was no doubt what was happening to our baby as we rushed to the ER, and as I laid on a triage bed next to my heartbroken husband, the loss overwhelmed me.

Those next few weeks are a haze of tears and despair. My mom flew out to support us, and helped me get through the physical and emotional struggle of the first few days. I ended up with a D&C surgery two weeks later, as I was deemed to have experienced an ‘incomplete miscarriage’. The day following my surgery, I flew to New York City to spend the weekend with my two best friends. And as I reflect on that difficult time in my life, I can see that’s where my heart began to heal. Sister-like friends have that power.

That baby would’ve been due on October 27th, 2011. I was dreading that day on the calendar, which had already been circled in a big red heart when we initially found out I was pregnant. But as October 27th approached, I found myself blessed with another pregnancy; my beloved Casey was born on March 2nd, 2012, only 11 months after the miscarriage. My gratitude for her is exponentially greater after feeling the hopelessness of loss.

There are three things that helped me get through this:

1. A memorial. We carved a cross on a big tree in our favorite walking trails in remembrance of our lost baby. That tree is a source of comfort for me, and a place we visit as a family several times a year. My 3.5-year-old calls it our ‘special tree’. I like to think of it as our ‘healing tree’.

2. Time. While the grief and pain from this experience is not gone, it has lessened. Time heals. And my heart has healed a lot in 18 months.

3. Talking about it. When this happened, I told the details to all of my family and friends. I told my parents and my in-laws. I told my sister-in-laws. I told my girlfriends. Talking about it helped me to process things, but it also helped to break down the stigma. Miscarriage is still a taboo topic, and people don’t know what to say when it happens to someone they know. It will happen to someone you know. Up to 25% of known pregnancies result in miscarriage, 80% of those occurring in the first trimester. Don’t say nothing. Acknowledge the loss. Because saying nothing only perpetuates the silence.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month. On October 15th at 7pm, I will be joining many other people around the world in lighting a candle to remember the babies we’ve lost. And I will be hugging the babies I have, thankful beyond measure.

candle


My Cup Runneth Over

“So, what did you do this weekend?” I often ask my patients on a Monday.  As I’ve mentioned before, I love to hear about what people are up to and what makes them tick; the “people part” is the most enjoyable part of my job.

When patients returned the question back to me, I found myself saying that I had a “low-key weekend.”  “It was quiet,” I’d say, “we didn’t get up to much,” or “there was lots of downtime.”  And yet, when I replay my weekend it was anything but quiet:

  • I ran 18km with one of my best friends at 6:00am on Saturday morning.
  • I worked until 1:00pm on Saturday afternoon.
  • I snuggled with my kids and watched a movie on the couch.
  • We went to our dear friend’s for dinner on Saturday night.
  • We went to church on Sunday morning.
  • We went apple and pumpkin picking on Sunday afternoon.
  • I sorted and purged both kid’s closets, dressers, and bookshelves.
  • We did some Fall planting and yard cleanup.
  • We watched all three Jays games on the edge of our seats.

Throw in some laundry, some food prep, and some housecleaning, and it was a full, busy weekend.  So how is it that I feel so refreshed and rejuvenated?  I think it’s because I love to do all of these things (minus the housecleaning).  Find what you love to do.  Do it.  That’s the trick.  A happy life is built upon time well spent.

My daughter’s Kindergarten class has been talking lately about the concept of “bucket filling” and “bucket dumping.”  Bucket fillers are people (and things) that make you feel good and content, while bucket dumpers are people (and things) that make you feel bad.  She excitedly tells us about the bucket filling tickets she earns at school by cleaning up, helping a friend, and sharing.  She’s proud of those tickets, and she’s learning to be a bucket filler herself and hang around with others who fill her bucket.

My bucket was filled up this weekend.  “My cup runneth over,” I texted my friend after our early Saturday run, and it’s true.  I’m full of gratitude for the life I have, contentment for the life I’ve built, and happiness for the life I live.  I’ve had this image saved on my phone for weeks, and I finally get to use it today:

empty

I hope you get to fill your bucket this Thanksgiving weekend.

***And I hope that Marcus Stroman is a bucket filler for Jays fans when he pitches tonight.


Make the trade.

We all have our happy places.  Mine is most definitely alongside Lake Ontario in downtown Burlington.  More specifically, I love a glassy lake, running shoes on my feet, and the solace and peace of an early morning.  I got that two days ago, and my runner’s high is still holding strong more than 48 hours later.

But my happy place comes at a price.  You see, to access this place, you must make a trade for sleep.

This is an internal dilemma that I wage with myself most Sunday mornings.  It’s still dark, life has been busy, I’m too tired, my legs need rest.  All of these things come to mind when my alarm beeps at 6:00am and my duvet is seemingly always at its coziest.  But more often than not, the thought of my reward pulls me from slumber.  This is my prize:

IMG_4243

This view greets me less than 2km from my front door.  And on a warm Summer morning, the excuses fade away as soon as my feet touch my bedroom floor.  I know that the fleeting moment of choosing to get up is the hardest part of an early morning workout and the adrenaline waiting at the finish line is well worth the temporary fatigue.  I got the glassy lake I love and a deserted lakefront walkway and I was back home soon after my children woke up, ready to join in on a day of family time.

The end game of all this is that I’m planning to run in the Road2Hope half marathon in Hamilton on November 6th.  I have many friends and patients also running this race, and it’s the last local race weekend of the season, making it the perfect choice for slowly building my mileage back up.  I live my best life when I set personal goals, and my early-morning-run motivation dips miserably low if I do not have a specific race on the horizon.  So I had 14km on my training schedule and managed to sneak out without my four-year-old running buddy tagging along.  I stopped en route to take the above picture to share with my kids, as I often do.  I usually see some pretty interesting things… skunks, swans, and even a naked man on a bicycle.  True story (but no picture).

But the best part of my happy place is the effect it has on me.  The peace.  The gratitude.  The overwhelming contentment.

I hope you’ve got a happy place too.  And I hope that you go there often.  Even if you have to make a trade to make it happen.

Choose the trade.  Choose happy.