One Alabama mom is warning others why it isn’t funny to joke about pregnancy on April Fools’ Day. For her, the pain of losing a child is all too real, and she doesn’t think the news of having a baby is something to be taken lightly.
“This is why your April fools joke isn’t funny.
This is why it’s not funny to lie and joke about being pregnant.
This is what it looks like to have a miscarriage.
A week ago today I started spotting. I convinced myself it was normal because I did it with Keegan. This time it wasn’t.
I avoid laying down to go to sleep because as soon as I hit the bed, I’m alone with all of my thoughts. My brain has finally stopped distracting itself from the one thing breaking my heart. And all I can do is cry. My eyes are so swollen and dark it looks like more than just my heart is broken.
Crying so hard that you go numb and feel nothing anymore. Being so angry and upset at everything but not being able to explain why. Trying to be happy that your baby never knew anything other than love. And missing someone so dearly that you never even met. It’s a pain no one can describe. Because how can you properly grieve someone you never got to meet?
Please think twice before you post that April Fools’ joke. Because what’s funny for a second in your eyes crushes someone else’s heart for eternity.”
One year after her heartbreaking post, Kayla Lee Welch of Birmingham is now pregnant with her Rainbow baby. She wrote an update recounting the devastation she felt in the moments she realized she was miscarrying to reinforce her message that pregnancy is not a laughing matter. She also explains why she is now at peace with her miscarriage.
“One year ago today I was in a car dealership picking out my ‘mom mobile.’ I was so happy I couldn’t believe it! As I was waiting I went to the bathroom to see blood. My happiness quickly faded, my heart shattered right there.
I tried convincing myself as I sat there crying, calling my doctor, that it was going to be okay. I bled with Keegan for months. I was so sure it was gonna be the same. But deep down I felt it in my soul, my baby wasn’t OK.
I remember every haunting detail of that day. I remember trying my best for the next hour to pretend it wasn’t happening, trying my best to not just scream. I just wanted to be home. I remember praying over and over again begging God, ‘Please don’t take my baby.’ But he did. He took my baby. And that is OK. My heart felt like it could never be okay again.
A month later I went in for a small surgery that turned into much more. I desperately needed this surgery, and had I been pregnant, that wouldn’t have been possible and I probably never would’ve found the time with two babies to make it possible again. My doctor explained to me how important that surgery was to my health and that pregnancy would not have ended well for me had it continued.
Something that crushed my soul, ripped me apart for months and put me in such a deep depression suddenly made sense. I understood why God took my baby and I slowly started to heal. But let me explain this to you: though I understood and though it is now OK, that pain has never left. I fear everyday for my pregnancy, even at 32 weeks hearing his heart and how perfectly he’s doing in there.
Every single time I’ve gone to the bathroom this pregnancy, I brace myself for the blood. Every single time. It set in such a deep pain that I pray every night and every morning to just let him be OK, ‘God please don’t take him.’ People genuinely don’t understand how awful miscarriage is and that’s because no one talks about it, but how is that fair to the mother trying to grieve the child she never met?
People don’t understand. You don’t heal from this, no matter when you lost your child. The pain never heals and the people around you never know because opening up is so scary. But if you don’t, no one knows. I kept my feelings hidden. I pretended to be OK to my husband and everyone around me and I literally felt myself deteriorating. I became someone I hated all because I let my emotions eat me alive when I needed support. Please don’t stay quiet. Don’t mourn alone. Talk to someone, even if that someone is me. The pain doesn’t leave but it will get better. I promise, mama.”
Welch told Love What Matters that she found out at a young age it would be “very unlikely” for her to be able to conceive, and that’s why her pregnancy was so special.
“I found out at the age of 8 that it was very unlikely for me to ever conceive. I would always have struggles with my ovaries, and at age 8 I had a surgery that they thought would be to remove my ovaries. So being able to conceive meant the absolute world to me, and held a very special place in my heart. When I lost my second, it felt like I lost a part of myself. I’ve dealt with depression and other mental health issues since I was little and the only way I’ve ever been able to cope is by talking about it.
I decided to discuss miscarriage publicly because I knew so many women had faced this and probably felt alone, just like I did. I wanted people to understand how badly this affected people and how common it was, but I also wanted other moms to understand they weren’t alone in one of the darkest points of their life.”
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