I started this blog as a tool for healing and as a means of helping people who have gone through or are going through similar things that I am. No one going through trauma should feel they are alone. I said there would be 100% honesty on my part. I would talk about the good days and the bad days openly. I have done that, with one exception. It is something that only my mom and a few very close friends have known about, until now.
In November 2012, I had a miscarriage. I was about 4-5 weeks into the pregnancy. It was not planned by any means, and came about because the guy I was dating was an asshole who didn't use the condom I gave him to use. I didn't know he didn't use the condom until after the fact. I am a firm believer in practicing safe sex and I take the birth control pill religiously, but I was on an antibiotic that made it ineffective. Needless to say I was not a happy camper and I have not spoken to him since. He was not the person he presented himself to be and it ended very badly…then I found out I was pregnant.
I fully intended on keeping the baby. I am in my early 30s, I have a good job, a great education and I have wanted to be a mom. The circumstances wouldn't have been ideal, but I would have made it work. After the initial panic wore off, and I realized that I would be able to do this, I was so happy. I wanted this baby. This would be my son or daughter.
When the cramping and bleeding started my heart shattered right along with it. I went to the doctor and the miscarriage was confirmed. Being staunchly pro-choice, at first I felt ridiculous for being so sad about something that was literally just a collection of cells. But as the days went on and the depression got worse, I had a more difficult time being able to deny that I was mourning a lost pregnancy, my lost child. Trying to rationalize it just made everything worse. There is no way to rationalize such a loss, no matter how far along you are. I learned that one the hard way.
My heart was broken and my belly ached. I have mourned the loss of what would have been my first child. I have a lot of friends who are pregnant now (five in my office alone!), or just had babies, and while I am overjoyed for them, and this new amazing journey that they are on, my heart hurts for what I lost.
Mother’s Day (May 12, 2013 – in the United States) hit me harder than I thought it would. It would have technically been my first Mother’s Day. I feel silly about it in a way. I was pregnant for about 4-5 weeks - not long enough to feel it move, not long enough for it to even have a heartbeat. It was just beginning. But, as my mom and Bonita told me, it is still a loss that demands to be grieved. And I have grieved, and still do from time to time. I have trouble walking through the baby department of stores. I see my pregnant friends and in them I see what my belly would be like now.
It is a strange feeling being around so many pregnant friends and friends with babies. I have this immense joy for my friends and unbelievable aching sadness for what I lost all at the same time. It is like my emotions are at war with each other. It is draining. It is maddening. It is all consuming at times. For me, it is this feeling of ultimate failure in which I know that, for whatever the reason, I couldn't keep the fetus inside of me safe. I couldn't make the cells that were forming into my child safe. I know that there is nothing I did to cause the miscarriage. I know there is nothing I could have done to prevent it. My doctor has assured me of that. I just wish that having that assurance would make it hurt less.
It has gotten better over the months. I don’t think about it all day every day anymore, but when it comes up there is an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss inside of me. I am sad for what could have been. I am sad for the loss of the child I would have had.
I know that the sadness will continue to fade, but I don’t know that the memory will. I don’t know that I would really want it to. I think that knowing this sense of loss will help me when I do become a mom. I think it will help me not to sweat the small stuff and to enjoy each moment a bit more. If the outcome of this is that I will be able to be more present when I have children, then I can definitely handle that.