It has been 2 years now. Almost exactly actually.
I had just recently told my family I was pregnant. I’d given my mamaw a children’s book with a stork and a cut out picture of myself on the last page. I remember how strangely she looked at me when she saw what it was.
“I don’t need a book for little kid’s, I’m not senile yet!”
Pressing on, I laughed and told her I wanted her to read it before I returned to my apartment 2 hours away. She obliged, even though she let me know story time was interrupting her beloved Farmtown session.
She smiled. & then the shock set in. Despite the imperfect circumstances at the time, she was happy for me.
I remember vividly a video I took of my baby sister talking to my yorkie Sophie Belle shortly after I’d told her.
“I hope you like that sweater, Sophie. Because it’s the last sweater you’re going to get. We’re not gonna get anything when that baby comes.”
She’s always been my jealous little baby at heart.
& I remember the end game. The last check on my HCG levels that were failing to rise as the days went on. Instead of doubling like they should have, they remained the same.
When I went in for the last check, I bitterly remember upon checking out the nurse asking me if I had scheduled my first ultrasound appointment.
I’d told her I wouldn’t be coming back & then whispered to her that I was having a miscarriage.
I whispered it, even though I shouldn’t have.
I remember having to tell my colleagues & friends. Most of them gave me the generic, “I’m sorry,” response & moved on. Never to bring it up again.
With the exception of two people, none of them brought it up again.
When I’d attended a party for my stepmom’s grandmother, someone in her family I’d had on Facebook asked me how far along I was. Stating, with amazement, that I didn’t look pregnant at all.
My dad gave her the death glare, shaking his head while my stepmom informed her what was going on.
Skip forward to present day: I was scrolling through my WordPress Reader & a beautiful snapshot of multicolored fall leaves caught my eye. It was about miscarriage.
& so of, course I read it.
While there were many good points in the article, the main takeaway for me personally related to early pregnancy announcements. I myself, like the women in the article, announced rather early. Never would I have thought things wouldn’t have panned out. But I did. & I don’t regret it.
I don’t regret it because, as the article points out, had this not happened, I would have had no support as a result as well.
Miscarriage shouldn’t be something we are afraid to talk about. We shouldn’t hesitate to share something that is so deeply painful and instead go it alone. Dealing with this immense sadness one on one.
If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t take back publicly announcing my pregnancy that I, shortly after, lost. I wouldn’t take back letting people know & having the two friends I did support me and check in on me throughout the process (as miscarriages aren’t over in a day).
What I would take back, however, is whispering to the receptionist I’d had a miscarriage.
With our fertility treatment, our families and friends have known we’ve been going through treatment cycles. They’ve asked when we would know whether or not the treatment worked. & the question came up..at one point, my husband & I were in agreement on NOT telling anyone about the pregnancy (if it were to result) until at least 8 weeks.
For one, that’s not exactly the most feasible thing when everyone is constantly asking if our most recent cycle was a success. Secondly, and more importantly, even if my second pregnancy did end the same way as the first, is that really something I should keep quiet about? Is that something that we should have to deal with alone, having no support outside ourselves at all?
Miscarriage is not something we should be whispering about. It’s quite common actually.
It’s time we all stopped whispering.