Another tough year: our miscarriage story

I admire people who write blogs, articles, and books about the parts of their life that are truly painful and difficult. How brave to put yourself out there. I have never felt any desire to do it myself, however. Why? Because I have dealt with very few painful things in my life. I am one of the lucky ones I suppose. Living an average life, near many close family members and my best friend of 33 years. Now creating a wonderful life with my husband and son in one of the most beautiful places on earth. Then, 2012 hit. It was my family’s turn to deal with hard times and I did blog about that annus horribulus without going into too much detail.

So, when 2013 rolled around, I saw it as a fresh start. It had been such an awful year, how could it get any worse? I’ll tell you. Have the year start with 2 miscarriages in the first 6 months. Miscarriages are heartbreaking and difficult. But now I see that perhaps people do not write about these types of things to be brave. Like me, perhaps they do it to be therapeutic. It feels good to talk about it. I do it so others know they are not alone even if they don’t care to share with me that they have gone through it. Maybe to take away from the shame of it and treat it like any other terrible thing that happens to you, not because of you. I do it for those in the future who have to go through it. Those around me have been wonderful, listening to me and letting me know they're there for me. But, I find a special comfort in speaking with other people that understand the unexplainable grief. It is so common, but nobody really talks about it. Just because it is so common, does not make it any easier and I think we need each other. If I keep it silent, how will those around me who may need to go through it some day know that I know their grief and I’m here if they need to talk about it? Well, this blog is one place to start although I hope you NEVER have to go through this!

The first loss was a rollercoaster and very emotional. Without going into too much detail, I didn’t even know I was pregnant for quite a while. When I first saw a doctor at what I thought was 3.5 weeks, turns out I was closer to 7.5! Obviously, things were rocky from the beginning and sure enough a week and a half later, there was no heartbeat despite having seen the little blip at that first appointment. The second loss was less of a rollercoaster, which may seem like a good thing, but I’m not so sure. I had numerous blood tests that looked great. It made me more hopeful and when it ended in a similar way at about 7 weeks, I was more blindsided and, subsequently, more depressed. This isn’t to say I wasn’t sad the first time. I was extremely sad and emotional. But, the second time it was sadness mixed with a real depression around a more apparent reality that this may never happen for us. More of a fog, more of a heartbreak, more confusion as I switched rapidly between thinking it is okay if our family is just the three of us, being optimistic that we will have another (successful) chance, and being utterly distraught when realizing both of those first things may be untrue.

It helps to already have a beautiful boy and my heart goes out to those dealing with this in their first attempts at having a child. His snuggly hugs and kisses help heal my heart and when he sees me sad he puts both hands on my cheeks and stares into my eyes. However, Ewan is all about babies right now. As I went through the second miscarriage, he asked constantly when he would be a big brother and why I was not having a baby sister despite the fact we had never told him about either pregnancy. When I sadly answered he may never be a big brother, his response was usually a confident “Yes, I will!” His response was either a sad stab in the heart or a reminder to be just as confident as him, depending on what mood I was in already. I am lucky to have never felt I did anything to cause the miscarriages as many women do, but do feel a sense of guilt that I am letting down my boy who desires to be a big brother so badly.

Before I experienced any of this, I remember thinking I don’t know how women have multiple miscarriages. Now that I am one of these women I see how, because we have no choice. The thought of giving up on having another baby is simply more painful than the thought of going through this again and again. Each day brings less sadness and more hope. So, I will go on to advocate for what I need as much as I can, not be ashamed of it as I have done nothing wrong, and try to channel my son’s inner optimist. Will I have another child some day? Yes, I will!