Bonnie Dugan

They say hindsight is 20/20. I am sure we all know this to be true - a relationship gone wrong or a career move that wasn’t quite right. Lately, in my life, hindsight has been devastating because I can never make right what I learned because of death. Death is permanent. You cannot go back on death. Once death happens, there is no undoing it.

My mom died suddenly from a ruptured brain aneurysm on April 9, 2019. We just honored her four year anniversary, which was ironically on Easter Sunday this year. You can read what happened in depth here. Basically, one minute she was perfectly healthy texting me that she was excited to hang out later and the next, she was seizing on a stretcher on our way to the hospital. Almost four years later and my mind still has a hard time grasping the reality of that situation. That my mom is truly gone and we had no warning, no way of knowing what was happening until after the damage was done, after she was dead.

I struggled with extreme guilt for a long time after that. I still do. Could I have saved her? Should we have taken her to the hospital sooner in the day when she started not feeling well? Should we have pushed more for her to go to the doctor? Yes, we probably should have but you know what? There is nothing we can do now. She is gone and that is a really hard thing to accept.

My mom is dead and I can never get her back. My daughter will never know a life with Cak Cak. I will never feel another magnificent hug from her. All because of an undiagnosed brain aneurysm that ruptured. In hindsight, there are so many things I could have done differently that day, and I will carry that guilt with me for the rest of my life.

Seven weeks ago, I was told my baby had died at my 14 week appointment. A baby who, two weeks prior, had a perfect heartbeat and was kicking around in my belly at 12 weeks. We were in the “safe zone” or so we thought. He was a baby boy. I named him Brighton Daniel, and I had already made plans of him being a little brother to C.C., a cutie little sneakerhead to Henry, and the perfect addition to our family.

That was all taken from me too. A few weeks ago, I learned that it could be because of a common virus that I did not have immunity too, that I didn’t even know existed. There is no way of knowing if this was the cause of my baby’s demise but it is the only thing that came back positive. Everything else, including chromosomal, came back negative. I was asymptomatic, nothing to suggest I was even remotely sick, aside from the intense morning sickness I was experiencing. If I would have known that this virus posed a threat to me, I surely would have taken measures to protect myself, just like I am sure we would have done everything possible to save my mom from her brain aneurysm before it ruptured. But, again, I didn’t and now I am left with the consequences.

The chances of getting sick during pregnancy are pretty high but the chances of losing your pregnancy because of a common cold or children’s illness are pretty low. The fact that this stupid virus could have been the reason that I lost my desperately wanted pregnancy is infuriating. Statistics have not been on my side lately. I am so tired of people and doctors spewing out statistics when in reality, numbers don’t mean anything to an individual. Tragedy can strike at any time regardless of the statistics associated.

My mom lived life freely. She taught me to live life freely as well. All of that changed the day she died. This pregnancy, I felt safe. I didn’t feel like I needed to live in a bubble like I did with C.C. But I was wrong. If I lived in a bubble, then maybe my baby boy would still be alive. If my mom knew she had a brain aneurysm, maybe she’d also still be alive. I don’t know how this will affect my life moving forward. I want to continue to stay true to who I am - someone who takes risks, who is not scared of life. But how can I do that when life has continued to tell me that I am not invincible?

I am tired of not having information until it’s too late. I am tired of people and babies dying and being ripped away from me because of information I did not know even existed. I hate when people say that this is unfair because my life has been a series of unfair events. Nothing has come easy for me. Everything is hard and I am left to travel through life lost and afraid of the next tragic thing that will happen. Life after loss doesn’t just keep going. You pay a price and that price is never feeling confident that things will be okay for you.

An unknown brain aneurysm took my mom. An unknown virus may be the reason we lost Brighton. Hindsight sure is 20/20 but what do you do with hindsight when you can never make right the things that went wrong?

The aftermath of this miscarriage has been especially heartbreaking. I think I completely blocked out what it was like after we miscarried the twins, but because I was further along this pregnancy, there are definitely more things to be triggered by. For example. I was doing laundry for the first time since finding out we miscarried and most of my pants were maternity pants because I very much already had a pregnant belly.

I opened up my agenda planner for the first time since finding out we lost our baby boy, and I have a space to write down what I am grateful for each day. When I opened it up I realized the last thing I wrote down was that I was grateful for a healthy pregnancy and a baby boy on the way on the day we found out Brighton no longer had a heartbeat. I started that day excited to see my baby boy kicking, just like I started April 6, 2019 with a text to my mom that I was excited to see her.

I recently found out I’ll need to get a hysteroscopy to remove retained “products of conception” (ie: they didn’t get everything out during the D&E). I feel like we are running out of time.

There are days where I feel okay, and days where I am absolutely broken. The sight of a pregnant woman or a coworker announcing they are expecting sends me spiraling. I have cried more tears in bathroom stalls the past few days than I can count. Here’s what I have found to be true though:

You can be strong and also self-sabotage because it feels like the only way to deal in the moment.

You can be healing but also silently crying out for help.

You can be consumed with grief but also want those around you to mention the names of your loved ones who are dead.

You can be self-aware and still have moments where you completely lose yourself.

You can be healthy and self-deprecating.

You can be hopeful and so angry.

You can be happy for someone else and so sad for you.

You can be gracious yet so hard on yourself for feeling like it’s all your fault.

The list goes on…

The reality of the situation is I’ve been spiraling for weeks since finding out about losing Brighton. This is a nightmare that I can’t wake up from and I might have just hit rock bottom.

Mom, I hate that you were taken from us because of a stupid brain aneurysm we didn’t know existed - that you didn’t know existed. You were torn from me so quickly, no chance to say goodbye. What would you tell me now? Somehow I have three babies in heaven and one on earth. Another stone to add to my collection. Three stones sitting side by side - the only physical representation that their lives mattered to me.

When will the heartache stop? How am I supposed to just keep going when it feels like so much has been taken from me? Please let me know.

Love you infinity.

Love,

Your sweetheart

xoxo