Hey guys! My name is Shelbie Thatcher & I am so excited to be able to share just a little piece of my journey with you here on Today’s The Best Day! I am a wife, a mom, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend. I have big problems, but even bigger faith & although life isn’t always easy, it is literally always worth it! I live in Las Vegas with my husband & our sweet little boy. Regardless of our struggles with secondary infertility and recurrent miscarriages, we try our best to keep the faith and to hold onto hope. We are 1 in 100, but that statistic doesn’t drag us down. We live every day with intention & we truly do have a beautiful life!
It is officially October which means that it is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. I never could have imagined I would be in the position to be bringing awareness to this issue, but here I am and while it’s not somewhere I ever wanted to be, I am grateful to be able to be a voice for so many suffering. I hope that this article is able to bring just a little more awareness to secondary infertility and recurrent miscarriage and the emotions that may come along with them.
I am so grateful that as time goes on, infertility and miscarriage are becoming more and more talked about. There are definitely still a lot of things surrounding the topics that are misunderstood or unclear, but it is talked about and that alone is such a relief for those of us going through it.
The conversation has started and the discussion is taking place, more and more. More women are opening up about their struggles when it comes to growing a family and for a lot of women that can be extremely healing. Personally, talking about my struggles and opening up about what I have been through has been extremely therapeutic. I hope that in doing so I can help others find a little more strength and hope in their journey.
Okay, so here it goes.
If I’m being honest, I didn’t truly begin to cope with the emotions that came with my miscarriages until after the third one. Up until that point I remained cautiously optimistic. I knew that what I had been through truly just sucked (there’s no other way to put it), but until that third one I still believed with all of my heart that we would get our rainbow. I wouldn’t say I was ever happy-go-lucky, but I can truly say that I still had hope.
Before losing our third baby I was still me. I was a little more bruised than the old Shelbie – the one who had never lost a child, but I was also a little bit stronger, too.
You guys, that third loss wrecked me. I’m not going to sugarcoat it and say that while it was hard losing yet another baby, I always had hope that we’d still get one one day. NOPE! Not one stinking bit. At first, I totally downplayed my emotions. Somebody would ask me how I’m doing and I’d respond, “Oh, we’re doing okay!” I’d see someone I knew in public and I’d quickly turn the other way before they could see me in an effort to avoid the topic all together. I just couldn’t bare the idea of having to slap a smile on my face to hide the shattered heart inside of my chest.
Then, one day, something clicked.
I don’t have to hide my broken heart or my bruised spirit. And I shouldn’t! There is a woman out there, feeling the exact same way I am, worried that she is alone in all of her grief. I can be the voice telling her that she isn’t alone and that her feelings are completely validated. And I will be!
And that is the day that raw, emotional, hot-mess Shelbie started opening up more and more about what really goes on inside.
Before experiencing miscarriage myself, I would have never imagined the many ways I would grieve. It wasn’t until I began to allow myself to open up that I was able to start truly grieving. I was able to cognitively process everything we had been through and everything that was going to come. The three angel babies, the procedures, the tests, the questions, the fear, the treatments, the surgeries. It isn’t just the loss itself (although that is by far the most heart-wrenching part of it all), but it is so many other things, all encompassed in that one tragic event. So, here are a few things that I wasn’t expecting to feel as we walked (and continue to walk) our journey of recurrent pregnancy loss:
A loss of belief. I lost the belief I once had in my body and its ability to do what it was created to do. You never think it will be you, until it is. I always had so much respect and love for women that had struggled with miscarriages. I could never imagine what they were going through, but never once did it cross my mind that one day, I would be one of those women.
My first pregnancy with my son was so easy and problem-free that I assumed I was in the clear and they would all be that way. I literally told people, “That was so easy – my body was just made for this. Pregnancy, delivery – this body knows what it’s doing!” Boy was I wrong! I wish I could say that I was one of those women who is just so proud of their body and all of the pain that it has made it through, but I just can’t. If I’m being honest, I’m mad. I’m mad at my body and it’s inability to do exactly what it was created to do. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that my body just doesn’t quite do what it should and that sometimes, no ALWAYS…. It is ALWAYS okay to ask for help.
Loss of a dream. I felt like I lost a dream. I have always dreamt of having a huge family. I always thought that I’d get pregnant when I wanted to and that I’d have babies when I wanted to. I’d have two babies, 18 months apart, then I’d have a 2-2 ½ year gap and then another set of two, 18 months apart. As my son has grown older and older, passing those marks, my dreams of having children close in age has dissipated. I have had to work really, really hard to be okay with the fact that the vision I once had for my life has been rewritten and that my plan is not His plan. Although I may not see it right now, His plan is so, so, so much greater.
Guilt. Guilt is a horrible, destructive emotion that crept its way into my mind from the first moment I ever realized I was miscarrying. I remember sitting in the car on the way to the Emergency Room, staring out the window and sobbing. The only words I could muster up was “I’m so sorry”. The guilt I felt over not being able to give my husband his baby, the baby we had worked and prayed so stinking hard for was almost too much to bear. I have since been able to recognize those emotions, but that isn’t to say that I don’t still feel them. That destructive emotion has now turned into guilt over the money we have had to spend – the bills that just keep rolling in. The huge chunks of cash that have gone to doctor’s appointments, hospital visits, surgeries and bloodwork instead of going towards the house that my husband dreams of buying.
Confusion. The one word that could define my whole journey over this past year. How did I get here? Where even IS “here”?! This past year has just been a complete whirlwind and when I stand back and think about it I’m still just caught by surprise. 14 months ago we were a normal small family. Yes, we had been trying for over a year to get pregnant and we hated that, but we still had HOPE. There was nothing anywhere giving us any reason not to hope. And then all of a sudden we are this small family with just a little more pain, a few more bruises and a completely different story. All of a sudden we had just as many members of our little family in heaven as we had on earth. And that can just be really confusing.
Hope through my body’s imperfections. This one is honestly sort of hard to talk about. I know what you’re thinking.. How can you have hope in your body’s imperfections? That doesn’t even make sense. Let me explain… It’s not that I have hope in my ability to get pregnant or even to stay pregnant. Even though I now have a fertility specialist on my side, possible answers as to what is going on and a tentative plan, I still have a hard time believing that it will work for me. Yet, I do believe that the imperfections in my body were all a part of the great plan for me. I have to hope that no matter what it is that ends up happening, I am exactly where I need to be. I have to have hope that my story will continue to unfold and that it will have a happy ending.
If you are struggling – whether that be through infertility, secondary infertility, recurrent pregnancy loss or literally ANYTHING else – let me be the first to say, I am so sorry. The pain you’re feeling is unimaginable. I see you. I admire you. I find so much strength in you. Hang in there, sis! Your story is about to unfold and I am SO grateful to say that I am right here with you. I am right here, waiting for my happy ending and cheering you on to yours!
Xoxo, shelb!
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Danielle is the owner of Today's the Best Day. She strives to provide creative and uplifting content in order to enrich the parenting experience for women everywhere. Danielle hopes to help you and your family to make every day the best day! 
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