Writing is cathartic; sometimes when there a million emotions bubbling, writing them down is a way to express it and sometimes deal with it.
So this is my dam bursting, with the emotions rushing to the surface. The last week has been the hardest week of my life. I was 11 weeks pregnant with my second child, and it was exactly what we hoped and planned for- we wanted my daughter to have a sibling close in age, both of us had that. I wanted to change jobs after the second child, so I didn’t have to start/ stop for maternity leave. Because online websites showed second pregnancies have a 4% chance of miscarriage and chances of miscarriage after 10 weeks are close to 1%, I told friends and family. We couldn’t stop ourselves from planning ahead as we reached the 8 weeks threshold. We went to New York to spend a week with my husband’s family and mostly to celebrate what a great year it has been. And then it happened, what started as a bit of spotting ended with a miscarriage.
We didn’t see it coming, and I feel like a deer in headlights. I can’t imagine how hard it is in people who haven’t shared their pregnancy and so can’t share their loss- the loneliness must be harder than the grief. And to to go about pretending like nothing happened must be exhausting. As I try to find a way to make sense of it, I often hear people say “at least you have your daughter”. Yes I am so grateful for my daughter and I have so much compassion for others who don’t and have to face this heartache. But I still yearn for that sibling for my daughter, that missing piece in my family picture. In the last few weeks, we imagined our weekends as a family of 4 with swimming and football games and lunches and naps. My daughter is the only reason I am sane, but it doesn’t stop me from grieving for the other child who I wanted and prayed for. I also grieve for my daughter, who would have been amazing big sister: she was obsessed with my 6 month old nephew and enjoyed touching his toes and playing with him.
What scares me is the future- now when we do try and I do get pregnant, I will be anxious and scared to take a flight, to lift, to do anything that could potentially hurt the baby. There is a foolish bravado when you haven’t fallen, and when you do fall on the cold pavement, how can you continue without letting it haunt you?