Answering "Is This Your First?" After Miscarriage

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When it comes to describing how excited Joseph and I are to witness this new little life growing inside of me, I fall short of words. It’s been such a beautiful, awe-inspiring journey to watch this little baby grow from the size of a chia seed to the size of a lime, with their own unique set of fingerprints and sweet beating heart.

I’ve treasured every little beat of their heart that we’ve heard in the doctors office, and their tiny sonogram pictures are proudly displayed throughout the house and office. It’s been such a blessing to see and hear this little life growing. What a joy to be entrusted with this sweet soul.

I knew that any pregnancy after miscarriage brings it’s own unique set of trials and thoughts to process. But the one thing I hadn’t prepared for in this pregnancy are the seemingly innocent questions that make my heart drop when they’re asked.

“Is this your first?”

“Will this be the first grandchild for your parents?”

“Are your sisters and brothers excited to be aunts and uncles?”

What I want to say is no, this baby is not our first. Joseph and I are getting ready to celebrate two years of marriage, and our anniversary always reminds me of our sweet honeymoon baby who we only knew for a few, short weeks. A baby who we named months before we thought we’d have to, and a baby who now intercedes for his family here on earth from up in Heaven.

I want to share with them the ups and downs of secondary infertility and negative pregnancy tests, and the journey of surrendering our family over to a good, good, Father who shows up and keeps his promises.

But, most of the times, I can’t bring myself to share that story. I’m hesitant to share that piece of my heart in conversation, especially if the person asking is in line at the grocery store or behind me in the pew at Mass.

So I’ll smile and nod, saying “It’s our first here,” remembering Marion and asking him to pray for me. I tell people that our families are excited for this baby and praying for them, reminding myself that I know Marion’s story and I remember it.

This sweet baby is our second. The second little soul that God entrusted to us. And while only one of these little babies can be seen this side of Heaven, I have a heart bursting with love for two littles that have changed my life so radically.

One of them I can’t wait to, God-willing, snuggle up with close in May. The other, I know, helped form me into the mama I am today, and continues to pull for us in Heaven.

Marion, pray for us.