Last night I got to have champagne and sushi. This morning I had a big cup of coffee! After my first two miscarriages, I didn’t enjoy being able to eat sushi or drink champagne, even though I was allowed to again. It reminded me of the very fact that I was no longer pregnant. Somehow, and for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way this time. I enjoyed every single slippery bite of sashimi, and I relished every bubbly sip of champagne. This morning I spent five minutes smelling the coffee before swishing and swirling it around my mouth.

They say third time’s a charm.

Apparently not.

The third time was the opposite of charming. It felt like being stabbed in the back more than it did the heart. It felt like the world was playing some nasty trick on us, and soon I would wake up, and realize it was a cruel and silly dream. I remember saying to my husband Scott at the doctor’s office, “when am I going to wake up? When am I going to wake up?”.

I cried much less the third time. It was as if the sadness and devastation had transformed into anger, confusion, and betrayal. Why was this happening? Why was the world doing this to us?

Of course, I know that the world wasn’t in fact “doing” anything to us. We try every day to understand so much of life’s mystery. We crave certainty and grasp for control. I know I do – or did – perhaps even more so than others. I love plans, and to-do lists, I love schedules and having absolutely everything in the calendar, from work meetings to lunch dates to poop times. Ok just kidding, I don’t put my poop schedule in my calendar, but you get my drift.

Well apparently, I can’t schedule everything. I can’t schedule when I’ll get pregnant and I for sure can’t schedule when I’ll deliver, or not deliver the baby.

After our second miscarriage, Scott and I did every test under the sun to understand what was happening.

Normal, healthy, normal, perfect, great, healthy, normal, perfect, normal normal normal.

Surely getting tested would give me some answers. Not always.

So, with all of this, I’ve learned a few things over the last eight months. I’d love to share these words of comfort for miscarriage. I’m not particularly happy with how I had to learn these lessons, nevertheless, I’m happy I learned them.

1. It’s ok to plan, but somewhere in the plan, remember to include “universe comes and changes whole plan”

As I said, I love to plan. Some people would perhaps even call me type A, but I don’t think I’d go that far. Perhaps type B+. But yes, I love to know what’s coming next; what the future is going to look like. I remember asking my now-husband-then-boyfriend at age 25 if we can start trying for kids at age twenty-seven and a half. Of course, his facial expression said “really? Are you kidding me? You’re already planning our family? I need to run for the hills!!” but of course, his love for me emerged through the fog of fear and he just simply replied. “ok baby”.

So of course, you can imagine how intensely terrifying it is to all of a sudden, in your world of plans and schedules, have no idea what’s going to happen or when. Yes, we started trying at twenty-seven and a half, according to our ‘plan’. Yes, we got pregnant at twenty-seven and a half, according to our ‘plan’. I’m now twenty-eight and a half and we’ve had three pregnancies and no baby.

What happened?

Well, it appears the universe had a plan of its own, and no, the universe did not consult me about MY plan to ensure we were on the same page. It just went ahead! And this wasn’t a one-time thing. It’s done it before, and it will do it again. And maybe one day I will understand exactly why. And maybe I won’t. But it is what it is, and I’m learning to accept, and dare I say, even trust the process. Some things are simply incomprehensible. Trying to comprehend the incomprehensible will leave you with nothing more than a throbbing headache.

And so, the last eight months have bought me down a notch – perhaps from a B+ to a C-. I stop trying to plan every minute of every day. Ok it’s true, I’ve already booked almost every restaurant for every night of our Hawaii vacation which is a whole month away (don’t tell my Scott. He’ll freak!) so maybe I do still love to plan.

Maybe a better way of saying it is that I do still plan every minute of my life but – and this is an important ‘but’ – I don’t clench onto those plans as if they are the be all and end all. I am prepared, and completely comfortable with the fact that the universe sometimes has a plan of its own, a plan that will step all over mine. And that’s ok.

Plan, plan, plan, plan, plan… and then be flexible.

2. No, it was not ‘X’

My first pregnancy was full of joy, excitement, love, laughter. Maybe every now and then, a glimpse of fear would creep in, but it would very quickly fade into the background as I begun to envision the color of our nursery and what kind of stroller we would buy. Of course, I stopped eating sashimi and drinking alcohol, but other than that, life didn’t change too much. I flew on planes, I exercised, I drank my morning coffee. And of course, I later blamed all of these things for my loss.

Our logic tells us that we didn’t do anything wrong, but it feels impossible to believe. What if I hadn’t done that barre class? What if I didn’t take that flight or drink that coffee? Maybe my baby would have been ok?

So then of course, the second time comes around and you do everything differently. You stop drinking coffee, you refuse to fly and you pretty much sentence yourself to bed-rest. Surely now everything will work our perfectly!

What? Are you serious? Again?

Well… maybe I wasn’t taking enough supplements? Do I need folate instead of folic acid? Maybe I need more vitamin B? or calcium? Or zinc?

Ok, so the third time comes around and you switch it all up again. You exercise, but only moderately, and stop eating gluten and dairy because maybe that’s causing inflammation? Maybe you take more supplements and vitamins. And it does the trick?

No. It doesn’t.

When I went in for my second ultrasound with my third pregnancy and things still weren’t growing properly, I was scheduled for a d&c (which is an operation to remove everything). Knowing, or thinking, that it was all over, I went out that night and had sushi and champagne! It was delicious! I started going to the gym and enjoying soft cheese. I indulged in coffee and chocolate and started eating that delicious gluten and diary that I had abruptly forbidden.

On Friday morning, I went in for the operation and requested an ultrasound beforehand just to doubly doubly check that things really and truly were finished.

“Did you get pregnant naturally Mrs. Bennett?” Said the doctor

“Ah. Yes. Why?” I said

Silence….

“Can you please tell me why?” I said again

Silence…

“Oh, well, let me grab another technician. I think I see a heartbeat” the doctor said.

Now before we get too excited about a miracle good new story (which will come, eventually I hope), things this time did not work out. The heart rate was very low and the embryo growth was very slow, if even existent. BUT yes, there was a heart-beat.

My husband thinks that being my baby, it was probably the sushi and champagne that got that little heart beating!

I thought to myself that day, maybe I should try that strategy? Soft cheese, sashimi, and alcohol… maybe that’s the secret recipe.

Ok, I’m not that irresponsible, but the lesson I did learn through all of this is that no, that coffee you had each morning did not cause my miscarriages. And no, that night out you had before you knew you were pregnant did not harm your baby. And no, neither did the cheese, or the fish, or the deli meat you accidently ate.

Now I am not saying go and do whatever you want! Of course, it’s important to be responsible. It’s just there are so many anxiety-inducing dos and don’ts out there that it becomes increasingly difficult to enjoy a pregnancy. Apparently now you can’t even eat hummus?

If your baby is going to stick, it’s going to stick. It it’s not, it’s not. So, if you’ve had a loss, please never blame yourself. And if you’re pregnant or planning on it, let down your hair, go easy on yourself, and just enjoy the ride for what it is.

3. Dogs really are therapeutic!

Ok, so I’m not exactly a “dog person”. Yes, I begged for a dog when I was twelve and drove with my mum for four hours to pick it up, but I must admit, I was not the best teenage-dog-mama.

In my adult years, I’ve never really had a burning desire for a dog. Scott and I had toyed with the idea every now and then, but when I actually thought deeply about the reality – potty training, finding a sitter for holidays, torn up shoes, etc – I quickly disposed of the idea.

On my twenty-eighth birthday, Scott told me that he had got me a surprise. “oh sh!t” I thought it my head “he got me a dog. Sh!t sh!t, I’m not ready for a dog”

Well, he didn’t get me a dog, but it did resurface the idea and somehow, after a few days of reflection, I found myself warming to it. Two days later, a little pup sat on my lap as we drove her to her new home.

Her name is Millie. She is a chocolate Labrador, and she is everything; she is cute, she is cheeky, she is loving, she is caring, she is excitable, she is social, she is loyal, she is cuddly. Millie is everything.

And…I get it now!

I’m not sure whether I’d yet officially classify myself as a “dog person”. I still don’t run up to dogs I see on the street, or drool over photos on facebook, so I would probably offend all real dog people if I called myself that. But I am most definitely a dog person for Millie, and in a way, she has built us a home as much as we have for her. In the midst of heartache, she has helped me laugh. When my heart has felt cold, she has cuddled it warm. When I have felt like lying in bed and speaking to no-one all day long, she has looked at me with her big puppy eyes and I have found a greater purpose beyond myself to go for a walk. And that has been such a blessing.

Dogs are therapeutic. And sometimes even a man’s best friend. For me, Scott still wins that title, but Millie comes in close second.

4. Miracles happen, even after miscarriages

Well, I’m not holding a miracle baby just yet, but I do believe I will. Regardless, the miracle doesn’t need to be in holding the baby. Perhaps the miracle was in seeing my baby’s heartbeat the morning I was supposed to get rid of it. Perhaps the miracle is in still being able to smile and love, despite everything going on. Maybe the miracle is in the process of getting pregnant, and even beginning to grow a human being in my belly. Perhaps the miracle is in the love that comes from friends and family during times of hardship.

Miracles don’t need to be big and incredible. They don’t need to be someone coming back to life or surviving a fire. Sure, those things are definitely miracles, but miracles come in smaller packages too. They are all around us if we dare to look for them. And I have learned that we really don’t need to look very far.

5. Saying something is always better than saying nothing

I get it, and I’m culprit of it. Someone is going through something really difficult, and you just don’t know what to say. It sometimes even feels awkward.

• “Am I close enough to them to talk about it?”
• “Do they even want to talk about it?”
• “If I did talk about it, what would I even say? What if I say the wrong thing?

These are all normal things to think and feel, but because of these questions and fears, we sometimes just say nothing. I’ve been in the presence of super close friends, who know exactly what happened, but don’t say a word. I know it’s not because they don’t love me or don’t care. They do. Very much. It’s simply because they just don’t know what to say. But you know what? Saying the wrong thing is better than saying nothing, in my opinion anyway. Nothing feels like they don’t care, or don’t even acknowledge what has happened. If your close friend just lost a family member, would you catchup with them the next day and say nothing? I hope not. Losing an unborn baby hurts just as deeply, and the grief is just as real.

If you don’t know what to say, say exactly that:

“I really have no idea what to say because I have never been through something like this, but I just want you to know I love you and I am here if there is absolutely anything you need.”

If you don’t know whether you’re close enough to them, say exactly that:

“I know we’re not incredibly close, but I still want you to know that I’m thinking about you, and if you need absolutely anything, I am always here.”

If you don’t know if they want to talk about it, say exactly that:

“I’m not sure whether or not you want to talk about things. Maybe you do, or maybe you just want a day out to have fun and forget about everything. I just want you to know that I am here for whichever one. I am here to listen if you want to talk, or I am here to eat and drink and laugh with you if you want to forget about everything, at least for a few hours.”

Everyone deals with things differently, and some people might completely disagree with me. They might not want anyone to say any words of comfort for miscarriage, and that’s totally fine. But they are also probably the people that will not share anything. Sure, if you hear about what someone else is going through from a third party (their friend’s Aunty’s sister) maybe don’t say anything. Maybe they didn’t know you knew, or even want you to know. But if you hear about it from them or they know you know, don’t say nothing. Saying nothing hurts more. You don’t have to say much. You don’t have to find the perfect words. Just let them know you care, and that you’re there for them. That’s all.

6. Take nothing for granted

Scott said to me the other day “you know how some people take family for granted”. Yes, I said. “We’ll never do that” he replied.

Very true.

And I’m not saying you need to have miscarriages or spend a long time trying for a baby in order to appreciate it. I have no doubt that if we had given birth to baby #1, we’d love him or her just as much as baby #4 (or 5 or 6 or whichever one decides to bless us). I don’t think you necessarily need to go through heartache in order to appreciate what you have; however I do think it helps to remember and reflect upon the fact that a lot of the things that we take for granted, other people are dreaming about and praying for.

Our health, our babies, our spouses, our friends, perhaps even the city in which we live and the food we put on the table every night. The last eight months have definitely helped me appreciate the little things. It’s helped me realize that actually, the little things are the big things.

I’m sure there will be times at 3am in the morning when our baby is screaming where it will feel really hard to “appreciate” it, but I’m going to do my best. And that’s all we can all do, right? Sometimes, in the midst of heartache, it feels hard to appreciate anything. But appreciation, like brushing your teeth or picking your nose, becomes a habit. So at least I’m going to keep practicing it.

It’s just as important as appreciating the good little things as it is to not sweat over the sh!tty little things.

Like when I run out of gas, or there’s no more milk, or Scott buys the wrong type of apples. These things used to bug me, but I guess losing three babies has given me a new perspective. Again, I don’t think you need to go through tragedy in order to “not sweat the small stuff”. You just need to realize that tragedies and heartaches exist, and at some point, will hit you, and spilling your coffee isn’t one of them.

So then, those are just a few of the things I’ve learned over the last eight months. There will be people that totally disagree with some or all of these points, and that is totally ok! Everyone needs to go through their own things to figure out what works and doesn’t for them, and what’s true and isn’t for them. These are the things that have become true for me, and if I have helped, inspired, or entertained even one person, then I’m happy.

Some things in life are bloody tough, like miscarriages! But with friends, love, champagne, and dogs, I’m pretty sure we can get through anything!

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Lots of love and thank you for reading,

Katie Xxx