Miscarriage Is...

Miscarriage is an instant heartbreak. It’s feeling a life inside of you switch off like a light… until your reality is so dim, everything stops around you in darkness.

Miscarriage is going to work the next day, thinking you’re ok, and then breaking down the second someone asks if you’re ok.

Miscarriage is getting your HCG levels checked every other day, eventually putting a temporary smile on until the person drawing your blood says “oh, your birthday is September 15th, my oldest daughter’s birthday is the 15th” while suddenly your eyes well up with uncontrollable tears because your due date of the baby that is no longer growing inside of you was in September…

Miscarriage is an endless battle of “stay positive, it will happen for us” and “why is this happening to us”? An endless battle of “it just happens, it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong” and “it’s happened twice, what’s wrong with me?”

Miscarriage is looking deeper into your health and discovering there’s no way your progesterone levels could possibly be supporting a uterine wall thick enough for an embryo to implant. I don’t know what’s worse, not having answers or knowing it’s possibly my body that caused a poor innocent embryo to end up in the toilet.

MIscarriage is knowing that this was always a possible outcome, but each day that goes by ok, the excitement of parenthood grows as the worry of loss fades. This is why miscarriage is sudden heartbreak.

Miscarriage is thinking you’re ok and you’re “over it” and then seeing 3 happy pregnant women walk by. In less than 5 seconds, you go from over it to crying in public.

Miscarriage is knowing you will eventually heal, while simultaneously knowing you just need to be sad right now.

Miscarriage is having your husband hold you and tell you “feel however you need to feel right now” his love acting as a permission slip to melt into his arms, his sleeve a blanket to catch my painful tears.

Miscarriage is knowing everything happens for a reason, but wishing there was any other way to build the strength that will inevitably come from this experience, any other way to learn the lesson of hope, any other way to learn the strength of our relationship… but this is the only way.

The only way out is through.

Miscarriage is going to bed intending to serve others the next day, complete all your responsibilities, and then waking up in a panic of overwhelming sadness and wanting the world to just stop with you, just for a few days.

Miscarriage is your husband texting your team to let them know you need the day off, so your world can at least slow down for one more day. So you can write a poem while tears ruin your make-up you put on to feel better this morning. Oh, and you’re at a public coffee shop. Yes, crying in public again, now not caring what anyone thinks about your unhidden heartbreak.

Miscarriage is a reminder how much you want to have a family. It’s a reminder that if you think this is hard, wait until you have to wake up 10 times a night, and have tough conversations about money and taking care of a baby, and have your every moment taken over by the responsibility of keeping a tiny human alive… but knowing the joy that comes with it will surpass all pain.

Miscarriage is learning you’re not alone.

Miscarriage is leaning into what you need to do in order to heal.

Miscarriage is not the end. It’s just the messy middle.

MIscarriage is…