There was time, not long ago actually, that women never spoke (let alone blabbed on the internet) about things such as cancer, infant death, miscarriage, or infidelity. They had these horrible things happen to them and were expected to pin a plastic smile on their face and sip tea while the world spun around them. Maybe it was because society wasn’t ready for that kind of pain, maybe it was because women thought it was somehow their fault their baby died/they got cancer/their husband was a cheating bastard or maybe just because they never found the words.
The day we were supposed to hear our baby’s heartbeat for the first time, I read this post and while I was still trying to be hopeful, I let myself contemplate what was soon-to-be our loss for the first time. Not long after that, Cara posted of her chemical pregnancy and I shared in her sadness. By reading their stories, I was touched and grateful and inspired.
Sharing my loss was almost as hard as going through it and there were fleeting moments where I regret opening myself up about something so personal. But I couldn’t find a suitable smile to hide my pain, so I found the words. After posting my story I was instantly lifted up by heartfelt comments, emails and Facebook messages. My friends cried with me, our family enveloped us in prayers and strangers reached out to me. But what was most surprising were the women who shared their own stories of loss. Friends, family – women I’ve known for a minute and women I’ve known all my life dug down into that place where you put the memories that hurt and brought them up to help me heal. From those stories new tears and old tears mixed together until we were just women who share yet another thing in common. I am in awe of each and every person who has reached out to me over the last week.
Our children are so precious to us- even the ones we never meet.
I lost my first pregnancy at 12 weeks.
You can call me and you don’t even have to say anything, we’ll just cry.
I was excited — for all of eight weeks. That was it…it was barely even enough time to say I was pregnant.
Some things are so hard to say; much harder than that brief moment the listener struggles for the “right response”. I am so glad that you have the courage and the voice to share.
I know how heartbreaking it is. But you are one of the strongest, most brave Mamma’s I know.
I too, know the feeling. It’s something you will never forget, nor do you want to…
We all, as humans, share those same thoughts, feelings, emotions, and experiences, and it’s nice when someone is willing to put them out there for the world to see, so that we might not feel so alone in our journey.
The courage will come.
When I met with the doctor after my last ultrasound she looked across the table at me and said, “This is very common, one in five pregnancies ends in miscarriage…”
At the time I felt that her explaining the commonality of my situation somehow diminished it. Sharing my story has showed me that just because things are common doesn’t mean they hurt us any less, and I’m thankful to all of the brave, wonderful people who have opened their hearts to me and my family. Because if you’re going to sip tea while the world spins, it’s so much better to do it with a friend who understands if you don’t feel like smiling today.
