When I was pregnant with my now almost-3-year-old son I was very fortunate to have a pregnancy free of any major issues (though don't let anyone tell you that a pregnancy free of major issues is not hard...it is HARD work to grow a human while still trying to function as one yourself...but another story). I have friends who at, or around, the time I was pregnant had miscarriages. I was sad for them. I could only imagine the pain of losing a promised baby. Some of these friends had multiple miscarriages with no successful pregnancies. I felt lucky. Very Lucky. And apart. I felt apart, because this experience, of losing a promised, wanted, planned for, loved before conception, child was one I did not share.
Today, I share in the humanity that is having lost that wonderful, loved, and hoped for child. I see you more fully now my friends. I love you more deeply and I hold you more gently in my heart. You and your pain are so precious to me. I am so sorry for your loss, but so fortunate to have to in my life. Because you are strong and brave and so lovely to me.
I have had 2 miscarriages. The first baby, when we went in at 9.5 weeks, while developing, did not have a heartbeat. After testing it was found that this baby was missing an X chromosome, she was a little girl with Turner Syndrome. The second baby only made it to 6 weeks. I went in for an early sono-gram and this baby had a heartbeat! However, my hormone levels were low and when I went back a week later this baby had not made it either. Testing showed this baby was "normal", and the miscarriage was called spontaneous.
I mourned very hard for each of these babies. After the first miscarriage I was shocked. How did this happen? I had a problem free pregnancy! How did I go from that to the loss of a child? After the second miscarriage I became more fearful. So, is this it? Am I meant to just have one child? Is that all I have been allotted by fate? I also started to notice bitterness in my line of sight. Suddenly, I was surrounded by pregnant women. My friends having their second (or more) kids. Pregnant strangers everywhere. The bitterness wasn't overwhelming, but I could feel it well up at moments.
"I don't want to be bitter."
I love the expanding families of my dear friends. All of my dear friends are fantastic parents who will add only good to the world through the raising of their sons and daughters. How to reconcile this love with this desire for the baby that others seem to be blessed with?
A miscarriage is suffering. Life is suffering. Be it a miscarriage, a decline in health, the loss of a parent, spouse, best friend, pet, job,...the list goes on. This world is temporal. Everything is lost in the end and too many things are lost before we are quite done with them.
This is suffering. Do not begrudge yourself for having suffered. Do not build walls. In my case the walls would be not continuing to try for my second baby.
Then, see the rest of the world as it truly is. Remember those friends and loved ones who have trod this path before you and join them. Their pain and yours is the connecting thread of life. It is the joy in the suffering.
So...
To you who have had miscarriages. I see you. I feel your pain. I hold your pain in hand with mine.
To you who are the first in your circle of friends and support network to suffer in this way. I see you. I offer you my loving support. You are not alone.
To those who have not yet experienced miscarriages, but will. The path is well worn. The pain is deep and dark. But when you are ready, I, and so many others, are here.
Although my pain does not lessen yours and your pain does not lessen mine, the sharing of having felt this paint is our humanity. Being here with you, even though it means having lost, brings me joy and not bitterness. Thank you so very much.
