If you’ve seen me lately (which is unlikely, because I’m a shut-in), you may have noticed this necklace. I wear it almost every day. It’s a simple circle with the phrase “Too beautiful for Earth” stamped around the edges.
You may think to yourself: Wow. She is so full of herself. She really thinks she’s too beautiful for Earth? Come on! I mean, I hope you don’t think that. I would, probably, but don’t be me.
Last February, Taylor and I found out some very exciting news. We were pregnant! And then…we weren’t. We lost our little baby pretty quickly (only a couple of weeks after we found out); it was a lot of emotions, and shock, and blegh. We took some time to recover; we moved on.
Last May, Taylor and I found out some very exciting news…again. We were pregnant…again! We prayed a lot, and reminded ourselves daily that 33% of women miscarry, but not too many miscarry twice in a row. We prayed and prayed and prayed. We heard the heartbeat. We got an ultrasound picture. And at the end of June, well, we weren’t pregnant…again. And we cried. Anger, sadness, anger again. More blegh. Blegh. Blegh. Blegh. Blegh. (No really, a lot of blegh!) Some close friends gently reminded me that “maybe it isn’t the right time.” I wanted to punch their faces off. But we recovered; we moved on.
April 2016, we found out some very exciting news…again. We were pregnant…again. Cautiously excited, we kept our hopes up. We fell in love with our little sweet pea. A few weeks after we found out (about 6 weeks pregnant), I woke up to searing pain in my abdomen. After nearly twelve hours in the ER, and two weeks of waiting, we learned with 100% certainty that little sweet pea went back to Heaven too.
My wonderful mom shared with me this poem after our third loss:
An Angel in the book of life
wrote down my baby’s birth,
and whispered as she closed the book
“too beautiful for the Earth.”
And I needed that. Taylor had the last line stamped on a necklace, and I wear it always.
We’re now officially a statistic. We are the 1% of healthy couples with recurrent pregnancy loss. I’m not writing this for attention or to show off my unedited not-great English skills, but to break the silence. No one talks about miscarriage, but they should. Because you know the thing that helped me through three miscarriages more than anything else? Talking about it. And especially talking about it with people who have gone through it too.