Farm Girl

It’s not talked about, because it’s sad

I was completely aware of what my body was doing, it was rejecting my baby. All day I searched for reasons why I could be bleeding at 8 weeks, every time I went to the rest room I begged for the liner to be clean. I felt like I was wobbling atop a Jenga tower, hour by hour a brick from the bottom being removed.

Maybe I had willed myself to miscarry, I had witnessed family members go through this loss and had made sure only our immediate family knew we were pregnant. I knew it could happen to me. I assumed it would hurt. By the time I had gotten home from work I went right to the shower and I prayed for this baby, my baby, to be ok. My husband took me to the hospital and a few hours later we walked out the double doors, the words “I’m sorry for your loss” echoing in my brain. It was March 4th, 2009.

I felt the feels in the weeks that followed. I ate my sadness, I drank my grief, I picked fights with my husband because he didn’t GET it. I was alone but I didn’t want a damn person to talk to me. The thing is, I didn’t have to be alone. The doctor informed me miscarriages are very common, 1 in 4 pregnancies miscarry, I was NOT alone.

Like a sponge I flipped to the back of my What To Expect book, for when things don’t go as planned, and then I Googled, and then I convinced myself we should try again. We delivered a healthy daughter on March 3, 2010, the day before the anniversary of my loss.


Then I had a second miscarriage and when I stood in the shower I just prayed for the baby to be gone. I didn’t want to go to the hospital again, I didn’t want for the doctor to remove from me what I wasn’t able to grow, I didn’t want anyone to know I had failed. It was December 19th, 2010.

You don’t forget. But also, we don’t talk about it. And we should. Conversations remind us we are not alone.

It was incredibly difficult to fully enjoy my future pregnancies, I worried if I let myself feel attached that I would lose them also.

I have a tattoo in memory of my two babies in heaven and that makes me feel less alone.

It took years before my husband and I really spoke about those pregnancies and the heart break. I learned the loss WAS hard on him but he didn’t show me, he was trying to be the support I needed. Everyone handles loss in their own way, and it is important to grieve.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month and from the very core of me, I am sorry for your loss.


Quick Reads

Girl’s didn’t shovel

I wanted to help my grandpa shovel dirt, I was around 8 years old and he wouldn’t let me. He said girls didn’t shovel. I remember accepting that and storing it away as jobs meant for men.

When I was 18 I worked for my uncle who owned a convenience store, it was snowing and he told me to shovel the sidewalk. I didn’t know exactly how and I didn’t think it was my responsibility. I felt very small asking him to show me how to do it, but he did and he didn’t tease me about it.

My children sometimes feel right under our feet and there are plenty of days I want more alone time. However, I will not let myself tell them that boys don’t do laundry and girls don’t hammer nails because they DO. I won’t discourage them from helping because it’s a job I didn’t want to do and their help stretches time, because for them it’s time together.


These are moments I remind myself to not get caught up in the to-do’s. These are the reminders I need.

I don’t think my grandpa was wrong, I think he was trying to be chivalrous. Girls are meant to be treated like princesses. Except even queens have to know how to take care of themselves, and the farm.

Xo, Nicole