Hello. I have a personal question. I have questions. I don’t feel comfortable asking because I don’t know you. Yet… I’m getting used to the idea of asking. Have you miscaarried?
This topic has so much stigma. This is also my first blog post. If I know anything or if I’ve learned anything in my lifetime, it is to stay as close as you can to your own lane. I’ve always been taught to mind my business. I don’t ever want to hurt someone’s feelings.
I know what it’s like to be judged. I learned early on in foster care, that if I do the things that make people happy, I will, in turn, be happy. It’s purely a defense wall I’ve built to protect myself from being hurt. I know raw pain, to it’s the deepest core and I will never do anything to put myself there.
So yes. This question was hard for me to ask. I don’t mean to pry. I am not asking to judge. It’s merely a question I feel we should feel comfortable asking, within the right circumstances of course. If you have and feel comfortable sharing in the comments, feel free. You don’t have to share too much just a yes… a no.. or a quick blurb about someone you know who has.
I miscarried…
I think, without this platform, my blog, that I would not feel comfortable just sharing my story. As time progresses though, I feel myself, empowered that this is a part of my story. It is something I can’t take back and frankly, something I need to come to terms with.
I was as anxious with anxiety and excitement as I learned I was expecting. Not painting the nursery or anything, but the normal excitement, that kinda pukey feeling one gets when your life is about to change again. Lord knows, I am not good with change – it’s what makes me so loyal. I get comfortable and know exactly what to expect. Now, this would have been my second child, so I wasn’t bedridden with fear that something so awful would happen to us. After all, if I could have one there wouldn’t be issues with more kids, right??
Wrong. June 2020. My husband and I had just expressed the news to friends and family. I mailed a letter with excitement to one of my friends. (Just a long-distance friend that we send mail to one another). I remember feeling that feeling I have right now. Like, I was putting myself out there. But I chose my heart and thought if I was going to share the news I was going to share every moment of it. The symptoms, the fear, the highs and the lows. I mean it’s 2020 – we need some kind of a win. This was shortly after our grandpa passed away, but I remember feeling so thrilled that I could share some happy news to my widowed grandma. What I didn’t know was that The M word would happen the very next day.
I know that I told everyone. When it happened, my sister said, “don’t worry, everyone spots, sometimes the entire pregnancy. “Sound familiar?
“Don’t worry, you’re not a doctor… you don’t know that, that is what it is”
“Just rest, don’t think about it, you’re fine”
“Just make sure you don’t do any heavy lifting”
It wasn’t enough “spotting” for a pad or tamp, so what do you do? You just roll up some TP, put it in your panties, pull up you big girl pants and keep that brave face on.
Then the next day same thing. More blood. Except, for this time I saw what I thought to be a blood clot. Literally, I just stared at it, it was late at night. I didn’t want to wake the hubby… I called my sister. I needed someone. I needed to know what to do. Do I touch it?? Someone please… please tell me what you would do. The pain starts to kick in. Straight up cramps. I mean it’s my body, there was only one answer for me, even though I denied it. Eventually, enough was enough, the anxiety was awful. I needed help breathing. I woke up my husband – who by the way, is supportive, but not with anything related to the reproductive system. Like at all. “Omg, don’t touch it, just go to bed, you’ll be fine”.
… what in the actual? Cool. That’s going to work. “Don’t get on your phone, just go to bed and talk to the doctor in the morning.”
I won’t forget what it looked like. I brought it into the doctors. It was a sac I carried for 9 weeks. I don’t know that a doctor’s appointment was necessary. It certainly didn’t feel good walking into the office with my “future” in my pocket. I absolutely didn’t feel good walking out. I just felt worse, I suppose hearing the confirmation. I go through phases of remembering every single detail to not really remembering the sequence in which everything happened. Again, I am not going to pretend like it didn’t happen or say I’m happy I went through it because I learned, XYZ. It was the most personal/painful time in my life and I’ve been through some shit. At times I felt open and honest, the next I was lonely and isolated and felt like I was in my own world. I felt it was MY personal failure and it felt demoralizing as a woman.
But what I will tell you that it is encouraging to know that for every person I HAVE shared my story, my experience with, I’ve met or heard another who has gone through it themselves. Everyone knows someone who has had a miscarriage. Miscarriage is so common (I’m learning and interested in- as 20% of pregnancies end in a miscarriage) everyone seems to know this but we don’t talk about it.
This made me start this blogging journey-If you feel inclined, please share your story or shoot me an email. This isn’t the family’s Thanksgiving table. It’s a safe place. It’s my safe place and I have so much more to share with you. If you want an outlet, I’m here. I just feel if i could lighten your load, while you mourn and heal, I can empower you with more content to do the same for other women you know in your inner-circles and we can bring pregnancy loss out of hiding and end the stigma around it. If you want to follow me in my journey, to help empower other women by reaching a larger audience, please subscribe to future blog posts and other content. Thank you.
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