Dearest nurse, I genuinely apologize if I came off as unkind during my time in the hospital. The truth is, I was simply not ready to shed tears in front of you; those tears belong to my husband and me.
Experiencing a miscarriage has forced me to seek meaning in what often feels like a senseless loss. I believe that souls form connections with people and that children choose their parents rather than the other way around. Each miscarriage does not signify the end of a soul’s journey; rather, it suggests that the timing was not right for them to join me. They will remain close until the moment is perfect for us both. In the meantime, I have goals to achieve. I create checklists and break down my aspirations to work toward them step by step.
You might think it naive, but how else can one recover from the heartache of losing a pregnancy and continue on with life—especially when considering trying for another baby?
The First Twelve Weeks
The first twelve weeks of pregnancy are particularly challenging for me. I feel nauseous and drained, constantly counting down the days. I find myself praying to reach week six without any signs of trouble. I cling to whatever symptoms I have, hoping they are indicators of a healthy pregnancy. Each passing day is a small victory, inching me closer to reducing the risk of further loss.
During this time, I tend to retreat into myself, hiding my not-so-flattering pregnancy belly. It’s not yet the beautiful round bump that signifies motherhood; it’s just a reminder of my struggles. My face swells, and I often need to nap. My heightened sense of smell is overwhelming, making anything from coffee to aftershave unbearable. I find myself making excuses to skip the elegant glass of wine at social gatherings, wishing to share my news but unprepared to discuss the myriad of “what ifs?” and “how do you feel?” I feel a mix of terror and joy, often brought to tears, unsure if they stem from happiness or fear.
My First Miscarriage
My first miscarriage happened when my fiancé, Jack, and I had been trying to conceive for a year. I was ecstatic when I saw those two lines on the pregnancy test. Later that day, I panicked after accidentally dipping my chicken finger into bleu cheese sauce at a café, convinced I had harmed the fetus. I had to share my joyous news with my friend and the waitress before telling my parents, but thankfully, the cheese was pasteurized, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
We scheduled an early ultrasound, and seeing that tiny heartbeat filled us with love and hope. But joy turned to devastation when we returned for the official sonogram only to find no development. The little one had likely passed days after our first visit. It was utterly heartbreaking and senseless.
So, dear nurse, I appreciate your kindness, even if I can’t share my tears with you. I must believe that there is a reason behind all of this, something meaningful in the larger picture of life.
Looking Ahead
After my third miscarriage, I notice friends using words like “unfair” and “injustice,” and then there’s the dreaded question: “Will you try again?” At this moment, I don’t have the answer. I’ve started jotting down thoughts and sketches in my notebook. Perhaps when the time comes for another attempt, I’ll have completed my checklist.
This journey has been one of deep emotions, but I’m hopeful for what lies ahead. For further insights about fertility and home insemination, check out this excellent resource.
Summary
The author reflects on the emotional journey of experiencing multiple miscarriages, seeking meaning and purpose despite the heartbreak. They share personal anecdotes about hopes, fears, and the struggle to maintain optimism while facing the complexities of pregnancy loss. The narrative emphasizes the importance of personal goals and the belief that every soul has its timing.