I don’t know if it’s because it’s been a year on Saturday, or if it’s because we should have a three month old in this house, or if it’s because my mind is quiet and the sadness of our miscarriage is seeping back in.
Most days I go about my life fairly normally. I don’t burst into tears randomly much anymore, and I can even be 98% happy for my friends who have announced their pregnancies since our loss (okay, maybe 95%). I only listen to depressing songs on repeat every couple of weeks.
But some days, like a sucker punch out of left field, I crumble. Maybe because it’s been a year and we still aren’t parents.
I despise the fact that even if we do get pregnant again, that it will never be a joyous, ignorant pregnancy. That I will hold my breath, knowing that at any moment it could all slip away. Just like it did for several women who write blogs that I read. At 20 weeks, 28 weeks, full term. It’s too fragile. And it can be fine one moment, and gone the next.
But I won’t be quiet about this. Even though society says I should be. Even though sometimes I feel like smacking myself and saying GET OVER IT, ALREADY! Which is sort of ridiculous because I would never say that to a client, or to a friend, or to any other human being. So why can’t I afford myself the same space? I’m not superhuman. And it still hurts.
One year later, it still hurts.
Positive to negative.
Two lines, to one.
Baby, to no baby.
Hello, to goodbye.
Many people won't talk about miscarriage, but I think it's important to be open about the loss. Not only to help yourself heal somewhat, but to let others know they're not alone. Several of my close friends have had miscarriages & it's hard to see them hurting. I have been fortunate to have never lost a child, but I have only had 1 pregnancy. My husband & I have been trying to conceive for 4 years as of Valentine's Day, so I understand that 5% of yourself that has a hard time being happy when someone else announces a pregnancy or gives birth.
Thanks for sharing something so intimate. Our struggles are different, but the sentiment is the same & I appreciate knowing I'm not alone.
I'm so sorry for your loss. *hugs*
Crying for you guys.
Anniversaries are hard.
Grief is a twisted mistress. I go through the stages the ping pong around. It does sneak up and smack you sometimes, at least it does me. Pain so cutting it brings you to your knees.
I would give almost anything to give us all back that innocence, to not have my second or third thought after a pregnancy announcement be a silent whispered prayer for a healthy full term baby. Knowing, really knowing, that two lines doesn't equal a baby.
For something that no one talks about, for something that is supposed to be so uncommon, I can name 6women at least that I personally know who are walking in my shoes.
While I was pregnant with C, 3 friends lost 4 pregnancies.
There just aren't words.
Thank you, for continuing the conversation.
Hugs
I am so sorry. I can't even imagine what that must be like.
I am so, so sorry for your loss. Miscarriage is so devastating and it's important to work through that grief. Hugs to you and I encourage you to keep writing about it here. It's a good form of therapy.
My beautiful friend. I don't know why miscarriage is held as such a taboo topic… well, not that I'm one to talk – we still haven't told most people about our loss.
Don't stop sharing, do, say, act however you need.
Despite the stroke of luck that's hit me, not a day goes by I don't think of baby Bingo (yeah, that was the nickname I'd given the lil' embryo) and what that would have meant.
You're my hero!
I wish I could take your pain and sadness away. Love you MOM
You are a mom, Casey is a dad, it only makes sense to miss your child. Almost 8 years later and I still grieve on the anniversaries (or just at random times). You're part of a club that nobody wants membership to, and nobody can leave, but is full of understanding, caring men and women who will be there for you.
I am so sorry for your loss. Sending you hugs and love.
I'm so sorry for your loss. Thanks for sharing.
Just today I was thinking about the fact that the due date for my first baby is only two months and a couple of days away, and how I will be grieving then, even if my "winning ticket" will still around then. And we all know that there's no guarantee for this.
I feel your pain.
And to tell you the truth – I don't think it will ever stop hurting. It will get better, and hurt less often. Even if our pregnancies lasted only a few days – we lost more than just a pregnancy, we lost a loved one.
Hugs to you!
I am so sorry for your loss. There are far too many of us grieving children we should be holding… I think about my losses and look at my kids and wonder how it would be different — my family would have completely different people than it has now. Many hugs…
I don't think we ever get over a loss. No matter how far along we were. Mine happened some 8 years ago today and it still makes me cry. Though I'm not in constant tears and the pain has dulled with time, there is still pain. I'm sorry for your loss and pray that one day you will be the mother you desire to be.
Jenn, I'm glad you're vocal about this. Pain isn't a "before and after" thing. It's a "how will it hit me today?" thing.
Your story, I'm sure, is a great comfort and inspiration to others who have been there, and who need to know they're not alone.
You're awesome. And I'm glad you're not hiding it.
((hugs)) i can't even imagine it and you are right it is so fragile..but you have every right to have it out there and grieve.
You know my heart breaks for you. I've not experienced this, but my closest friends say the sting never fully goes away. I wish peace for you, though. And I wish for two lines and a healthy baby.
I haven't had a miscarriage but it took us two years to conceive our son and seeing one line over and over again really hurt. You have every right to your grief and to fear the next pregnancy.
You've got every right to be sad about it, for as long as it takes. And to say so!
I just want to reach thru this computer an hug you right now. The anniversary of the loss of a child is an emotional time, honor your feelings. I'm so glad you wrote this and reached out Jenn.
Hugs to you guys…
Okay you know I have to put a little humor in if I possibly can. I was going to say, "I know that isn't the the therapist saying get over it" but you corrected yourself. I can tell you that I cried to a People magazine saying "Everyone is pregnant but me". For a while I could tell you all the stars that got pregnant around the same time as me and gave birth when I should have been. I can't remember it so well anymore but even after 10 years if I see a pictures I still remember when I look at their child. Okay there wasn't really any humor in that was it? Dang.
i believe you need to feel it to heal. i think it's great that you talk about it. i think it must make things easier to deal with….
nice poem.
Beautiful and sad at the same time. Tears for your loss. For your pain. Hugs and hopes that you'll be gentle on yourself.
I'm sorry for your loss!
Hugs to you. I wish I had more, but I don't. You are right… one minute everything can be fine and the next – it is just not. People think this baby process is so easy. That it is all so idyllic … and sometimes it is just not…
So hugs. Kristen
It's devastating. I understand your pain. I've had several miscarriages myself so I know the feeling. It's so very sad. I also know many couples who takes a little longer then others to get pregnant. Best wishes and hugs coming your way.
I'm so sorry. I can only imagine the pain.
I am so sorry. Speaking from my former life as an OB, I was always in awe of how much had to go right for a baby to come into the world. It is a ballet of infinite steps danced on the edge of a cliff. I never took it for granted, even with my own pregnancies.
My empathy pours out to you. You are doing healthy things for yourself, working through your grief in this way.
Hugs. Ellen
I'm sorry for your loss. Any way it happens, it's devastating. Thank you for reminding me of the fragility and uncertainty that life brings with it, its unexpected joys and sorrows.