I owe you an apology. I've had tears in my eyes ever since I read your comment this afternoon.
When I read about your second loss at 8w4d last week, I panicked. I read about someone else going through the exact thing I've been fearing will happen to me since I scheduled my first OB appointment, and I just wanted to run away from it. I now realize how childish, hurtful, and selfish I was, and I'm so sorry for that.
Since losing our two angels, I've searched high and low for a reason why this has happened to me. The only thing I've been able to come up with is that it's made me a more compassionate person. That it's enabled me to be able to help others who are going through the same things I am. I reached out to two other people (in real life) this year who have also had miscarriages, and I know in my heart that I helped them in some way. Sadly, after how I reacted to your most recent loss, I feel as though I'm back to square one and haven't learned anything from this afterall.
Instead of mentioning "some blogger who lost her baby at 8w4d" and writing about how I can't handle reading things like that, I should have told you how sorry I was. I should have asked fellow bloggers to keep you and your husband in their thoughts and prayers. I should have told you that I, too, know what it's like to lose two babies and understand what a horrible feeling it is.
With my losses, there have been people in my life who have done exactly what I did to you. Ran away. I'd tell them about my loss, and they would literally run away because they wanted to continue to live in their happy, carefree bubble where nothing bad happens. And it hurt. I realize that's exactly the same kind of person I have become with this pregnancy. I don't want to hear about the bad stories anymore. I want to live in my safe bubble and only hear about the stories with positive outcomes so that I can have hope. But living in my bubble is not fair to you, or anyone else. Life is not perfect. It's moments like that where we need to be human, and tell each other we are here for one another. That we're in this together.
I debated about whether or not to make this apology public, and decided blogging about infertility and miscarriages is about being open, honest, and keeping it real. And, therefore I wanted to tell you, publicy, that I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me, although I certainly understand if you don't or can't right now. I am so sorry for your losses, and I will say an extra prayer for you tonight that someday, soon, you will have your takehome baby.