Bear With Me While I Struggle Through This

Trigger Warning: pregnancy, loss, miscarriage

I have been pregnant 9 times

I have no children.

I am struggling with this today and I know --from private messages sent by people who I am close to and some who I barely know--that I am not alone in this struggle. The longest I have been pregnant is 8.5 weeks. I have never heard a heartbeat. With endometriosis, there are numerous possible issues. Please don’t make the mistake that many people make upon hearing this. Don’t offer solutions. Trust me, we’ve explored solutions.

Today, I went for a follow-up ultrasound after my most recent loss. There was a young couple ahead of me in the ultrasound room. I heard her crying, saw them numbly shuffle to a consultation room, knew what they were going through.

I wanted so much to tell them that it would be okay. But I don’t know that, do I?

See--it didn’t turn out okay for us. I was on birth control, actually. This time when I got pregnant, Darius and I had already resolved ourselves that parenthood is not something in the cards for us (please lower your “just adopt” flag. No. Lower it. Put it down. Now is not the time). Darius and I are going to be kitty parents. I am sad about that. It’s okay to be sad. Right now I need to let go of some of the sadness I feel.

So, I’m going to talk about sad things to help me get rid of this. You can stop reading if you want. I won’t be offended.

These are things I DO KNOW are true.

After you miscarry, if you get pregnant again, you don’t tell anyone because you are afraid of disappointing them. You already feel like a failure, and you can’t help but fear failing them too. This means miscarriage becomes a secret, private pain. It burbles up in unexpected ways.

For example, you can not blind yourself to your friends’ pregnancy announcements/ baby showers/ baby’s big first steps. That is good. You want to be happy for them and you are...but it also hurts just a little. Sometimes it hurts a lot. It hurts in a way I will never be able to describe. So you hold on to your pregnancies and losses. If a woman EVER opens up and tells you about her miscarriage, know you are trusted in a way many aren’t. Don’t blow her off. Listen.

After you miscarry, Pinterest and Google and Facebook ads don’t know you miscarried. So they will continue to put pregnancy related ads and posts in your feed. They won’t go away for awhile. Wait about a month. Or buy a bunch of exercise stuff. That will help clear it up, not completely, but it will help.

Miscarriage is physically painful. You will pass tissue of varying sizes. The largest I have passed was the size of an apricot pit. It hurt. It is messy and scary.

After you miscarry you will suffer depression. Hormones and emotions are complicated. Even if you’ve been through it a lot, it will still hurt. Even if you tell yourself (scold yourself) not to get your hopes up, you are human. “Hope is the thing with feathers/ That perches in the soul.” It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to be petty. Be those things for as long as you need.

After you miscarry people will say the wrong things. “Wow! I didn’t even know you could know you were pregnant that early!” Yep. When you are living and breathing for a positive pregnancy test, you can know as early as 16 DPO (days past ovulation) that you are pregnant. “Why are you upset? You said yourself it probably wouldn’t last.” Because I am not a robot. “At least you can get pregnant.” This one took my breath away, said to me by a nurse. She didn’t mean it. She was trying to empathize. I see her pretty much every time I go to my doc.

BUT people will also say the right thing/ be amazing. “I love you.” “This isn’t your fault.” “You’re NOT a failure.” “You’re my best friend and I am here for you.” “Talk. No. Don’t make excuses. Talk.” I am so grateful to my husband and my family and my friends.

Today while I was waiting for my follow-up ultrasound, I was sitting outside that little room listening to a young lady weep. I heard her sobs and listened to her husband try to comfort her; I looked away from the door at a PEOPLE magazine that touted SECRETS TO KATE’S BIRTH! THE SPECIAL SECRETS SHE USED TO GET THROUGH DELIVERY. The tech came out and smiled sadly at me (she knows me well and knew why I was there). To give them a little privacy while they gathered themselves, she told me to go the bathroom (empty bladder = better ultrasound). When I came out, the young couple was shakily making their way to the consultation room.

The PEOPLE magazine had been carefully moved to the bottom of the stack. My tech smiled at me again and ushered me into the room.

There aren’t always miracle stories. I thought I might have been one. I wasn’t. That’s okay. People are still good. There is still hope. This world is still worth fighting for, even if you need a day to be sad. There are sad days and that’s okay.