Last month, smooshed in one of those crazy days between Thanksgiving and Christmas I lost my baby boy.
I lost him the week I was finishing my Whole30 Coaching Certification, the week before my Whole30 Recipes takeover, the week of finals, the week everything changed.
During that week, all of those things seemed so inconsequential when compared to the first thing – I lost my baby at 13 weeks and 6 days. I couldn’t get off the couch. The physical pain of a D&C, and the emotional pain was so intense I didn’t think I’d ever be okay again. I couldn’t get off the couch, but I was supposed to take finals and be in front of a million Whole30’ers and smile and be happy and get A’s and go to a 1st birthday party to a boy who’s my godson, and a holiday party with pregnant women in attendance, and Christmas, and and and and and.
“We’ll keep you here for a bit to make sure the bleeding isn’t too bad,” my doctor told me, as she cupped my face. I was still lying on my back, tears that started silently an hour prior had turned to an uncontrollable sob. I got up as she stepped out of the room to give me privacy to get dressed.
I realized as I stood up how much pain I was in from being dilated and cramping, tried to remember how to put my clothes back on and sat back down. I sat there trying to grapple with the thought that I was pregnant.. and now I’m not. I was hollow and empty. I sat there long enough crying that someone, I have no idea who, knocked and asked if I was okay.
I said nothing. Am I okay? Will I ever be okay again? I got up and followed her out of the room, and to a “recovery room” and they went and got my boyfriend. God I would have hated to be him that day. As I looked at him looking at me crying, I could tell how much pain he was in too. Knowing there’s nothing he could do to take away my pain made him feel even worse.
He looked physically sick with grief, and I’m sure the pair of us were quite the site to see. I’ve never loved that man more in my whole life. If there was a way I could have anticipated my needs ahead of time, or a way I could have asked someone to give me exactly what I need, to be exactly what I need, he would have done it. But he didn’t have to – he already did everything and was everything I needed without me knowing what that was.
I don’t quite know how to explain Justin to people. He’s just… Justin. My best friend. I’m my true self with him and no one knows the depths of me like him. That day he saw me unlike anyone ever has. With such guilt, grief, shame, pain, and such sadness. Red faced, grimaced in pain when I moved, with a continual stream of tears- my pain clearly visible over my face. And he knew what to do for me. I am grateful.
I mention all of those emotions, but what is the hardest is the guilt and the grief. Guilt because part of me was relieved it happened. A baby wasn’t in the plan. Like, anywhere in it. I wasn’t even sure this was what I wanted but then after those thoughts came the ones that made me feel even more guilty because so many people try for years and mine happened on accident and now part of me is relieved it’s gone. And then more guilt followed those thoughts when I shamed myself for feeling that way because I’m also devastated about the loss.
Thoughts of Justin being a dad, our families raising this little boy, Justin and I’s little boy… our little boy would send me instantly into violent sobs. How can I be both so overwhelmed with the deepness of this grief I felt over never being this baby boy’s mom, but also be relieved I won’t be at the same time? I hated myself for it. I still kind of do.
I didn’t know how life would go on. And, for a while, it didn’t. I did the things I “had to” every day. I barely made it though the Whole30 recipes takeover. I faked it. I put on a happy face when I needed to. I’ve avoided putting my face on the camera at all costs. I avoided my family and friends. I didn’t know how to tell anyone, so I pressured myself to make it appear that everything was just groovy over here. When it wasn’t. I was dying.
At least, I felt like I was. I didn’t know how to see anyone. So I didn’t. I buried myself in blog stuff to keep busy. I wrote an eBook. I churned out enough recipes to get me through a few months and gave them away to my elderly neighbor. Merry Christmas, Jo. I didn’t know how to deal.
It was a lot of ups and downs in a very short amount of time. From finding out I was pregnant, to being pregnant, to not being pregnant, it was just… hard. It’s an emotional rollercoaster I hope I never have to get on ever again. I never thought in a million years I’d have gone though it in the first place (because, I’ve been just fine the last however many years, and the pill is like 99.9% effective, so you’ll be fine, said DR. CRANE *eyeroll*, and I’ve now gotten an IUD so this doesn’t happen again)
People told me time will make it better. They told me my hormones will be all over the place for the next 8 weeks. They were right. But I still hurt. I’m still messed up. I still blame myself. I still wonder what would have happened. I still don’t go into the room painted as a nursery that we always meant to repaint when we bought this house but never got around to. I still avoid the baby clothes section at Target. I don’t know how to be a mom, and I also don’t know how to not want to be now either.
There’s not some big inspirational message here. Really. I don’t have a ton of positive things to say on the subject yet. I don’t really even have a very cohesive thought on it either. I’m mostly scared to openly share this. I’m scared of what you’ll think. I’m scared of not being at my thinnest after this fall. I’m scared of feeling pressured. I’m scared of you thinking horrible things about me. I’m afraid to let you down. I’m afraid you’ll be annoyed I’m not just giving you a recipe. I’ve just already piled so much of this onto myself, any more of it would just be too much.
The few things I can see that were “good” takeaways:
I quit my job. I immediately felt like I started seeing things from different eyeballs. Screw not being happy. Screw not doing what you want to do in a way that makes you feel purpose and joy. Screw tolerating something that drains the life out of you, stresses you out, and makes you feel small and insignificant. Life is short. Life is hard enough already.
I quit a job I wasn’t happy at anymore to give my dream job my best shot. Justin, to the rescue again, assured me that jobs will always be there. My dreams can come first sometimes. Not that I needed his approval, but damn does it feel good to have someone who gives me wings to fly but a home to come back to. BLESS HIM. Now I wake up every single day, and even in light of what happened to me, I feel like I wake up in the best dream ever. Because I have the best job ever. I love my life and it’s feeling okay, and feeling honest, to say that again.
The funny thing is, since this happened, countless other incredible things has happened to me both in my life and my business. Sometimes I can’t even believe so many great days followed one of the worst. I think the good things were meant to be to help me find new inspiration and a new drive to continue on. It worked. I’m more inspired than ever.
I’m REALLY glad I won’t be going into labor anytime soon. Even being halfway dilated was horrible and the most extreme physical pain I’ve ever felt. I can wait on that. (This was a lighthearted joke, no rude comments, OK?)
Life looks a lot different than it did before this. I’m trying to find a new routine, a new normal and a new center. I felt like this was the push I needed to start prioritizing the things I really love in life, and about my life. And it maybe strengthened my resolve and confidence to be able to shout it from a rooftop instead of shying away from it.
The one thing I don’t like to do when life hands me heavy hands is to drown with them because I’m clinging on so tightly. I’d rather just let it go. I do it with people and things and opinions and mindsets. It’s easier to let it go, or find a way to use it to serve you or serve others. Just as growing up obese wasn’t something I wished for at the time, now, I can see how dealing with my residual anger and being freed to speak openly about it has helped me and others like me. As much as I wish this didn’t happen, I also know some day I might know why it did.
Love you. Thanks for being here.
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Jessica says
As someone who has never had to experience this, I find the way you have handled this situation awe-inspiring. The situations we can be forced to deal with as women can be the some of the most difficult in the world. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I am currently facing a lot of life changes, and your message about the future really resonates: screw not being happy. In the face of adversity, you’ve pushed forward and made hard, hard decisions that are going to make you happier. Be proud of yourself. You’re a gem and deserve happiness always, and you’re taking the steps to get there. Thank you for the inspiration.
Kalin says
Bailey – I’m so sorry for your loss. As a fellow Minnesotan I’ve loved following your journey (thanks for sharing the BOGO kielbasa deal at L&B, I bought like five) and reading this tore me apart. You are always so honest and open and I love that about you and your blog. I know words won’t heal but I’m proud of you for being honest and I wish I could help in some way. Sending you love, strength and puppy kisses your way.
Nicole says
I’m so sorry for the loss you and Justin are going through. You’re incredibly brave for sharing and I’m positive your post will help so many.
Alissa says
Sending love Bailey! Sometimes it’s hard to believe everything happens for a reason, but it does. You’re so much stronger than you know ?
McKenzie says
I’m so sorry. I’ve been there too. After it happened so many friends and family shared their story of loss too making me realize It happens more than anyone is talking about. Love and support from California, Bailey.
Xoxo McKenzie
Amy Peters says
You have an amazing gift for writing. I lost 2 babies, and you said things that I didn’t even know I felt until I read that. I am wishing healing peace for you. You will get through these long winter days. Spring is coming. Giving yourself the time and space to heal is so important. As painful as it is, you just have to feel it. Thank you for your open, teaching, presence.
Janice O'Kane says
Oh Bailey, I am so, so sorry. Your honesty and vulnerability are priceless. Somehow we do manage to come out on the other side of effed up situations in our lives. I have no words of wisdom to share, but am sending you love, covering you, Justin and your baby boy in prayer.
Kerry says
There really aren’t words. I had my first miscarriage after 4 perfectly fine pregnancies. A “surprise” in my 40th year. Similar feelings, as in did I make this happen because I didn’t want it. We all know that’s not true of course. But the pain associated with it was so very unexpected. I’m so sorry for your loss. There really Aren’t words that make one feel better. It sucks. It sucks very very bad. But you/we have no choice but to soldier on. I’m impressed with you for sharing something so intimate. Sending much love your way.
Lisa says
I’m so sorry for your loss. I think you are an inspiration. Don’t ever forget that. ❤️
Cricket says
I am so very sorry for your loss. Praying for both of you. ??
paleobailey says
Thank you so much <3
Ruthie says
This is incredible. I can’t help but get emotional and upset reading this as I’m sure most people are. I’m just blown away by your ability to be real and put yourself out there in a way that lifts others up even in heartbreak. It’s not a gift I have. I know you took some time to share, but DAMN this JUST happened. And you have given so much of yourself to others (Team Paleo Bailey here!) in that time without us knowing and without us being sensitive to your pain. Thank you for sharing this. Like so much else that you share, this will truly help others (and hopefully was healing to write).
Whitney says
My heart broke for you while reading this. I’ve also endured two lost pregnancies, timed right before the holidays. You are amazing for being honest with your emotions… give yourself a break & treat yourself the way that you would your best friend. No one Chas to understand your feelings, not even you really… just feel them & let them go. Take care. ???
Sara says
My heart hurts for your family’s loss, Bailey. I’m so sorry. I’m thinking of you.
Robbyn (robbyngetsfit) says
So sorry that you had to go through something like this. But I absolutely understand the catalyst that it has become for you. We often learn who we are and what we are made of in our darkest of times. And I am happy you have that silver lining right now. ❤️
Brittany says
A lot of it gets better. Some of it never does, but it’s important to remember that YOU will be ok. You just will. Take care.
paleobailey says
Thank you, Brittany. This means so much to me and I know I will be… soon. Thank you <3
Jill says
Thank you for this brave and honest post. Praying for healing for your hearts. I’m so sorry for your loss.
paleobailey says
Thank you so much, Jill. I appreciate your kindness <3
Alyssa says
I lost my first baby two years ago. We had been trying for a year and I was on fertility meds. I had a “missed” miscarriage and although my baby likely died around 5 weeks, I didn’t actually miscarry until almost 12 weeks. I decided to go through the natural process and it was easily the worst experience of my life. I was so defeated and couldn’t hear one more person tell me our time would come to have a healthy baby. Me wanting and hoping and praying for a baby doesn’t make my grief greater than yours and it doesn’t make my loss harder than yours. Loss is loss and you suffered an incredible loss, whether you were “ready” or not. The guilty thoughts you’re having are normal and are part of the reason that I wish more women discussed their losses. Thanks for being transparent. You’ll never forget that baby, but time does make things a bit easier.
Maria says
I am so so sorry. I’ve had miscarriages and it’s hell. Feel your guilt and your pain and your love and your confusion. All of them are the right way to feel. It will hurt less af some point, but is always going to be a tiny part of you and that’s okay too. I’m sorry you had to join this miserable club but know there are a lot of us out here with you. It effing sucks and I am so sorry you had to go through this. I’m sending extra vibes in your direction from Cincinnati.
paleobailey says
I’m so sorry you’ve experienced loss as well. It’s so incredibly painful and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Thank you for letting me know it’s okay and if I have to be in the club, I’m glad to be in it with kind women like you.
Lisa says
My heart hurts for you that you had to go through all of this! I really appreciate your blog and love how you don’t just share recipes (although I have really loved all the ones I’ve tried!). I’ve found your story inspiring since it was featured on the whole30 website. Thanks for all you do to help others find health and happiness!
paleobailey says
This is such a kind compliment and message. Thank you so much for your support <3
Kelsey McMunn says
I’m so sorry for your loss, Bailey. I’m praying for you. Thank you for being so honest and open.
paleobailey says
Thank you, Kelsey. That means the world to me. <3