I never knew you could love someone you’d never met. That you never even knew was alive. Even debatable to some of ‘being alive’. 3 years ago today, I had a miscarriage.
I didn’t know I was pregnant when I had my miscarriage. In fact, I didn’t even know it was a miscarriage until later when I was taken to the doctors, and my slight suspicion was confirmed. I was rather shocked, I remember coming home after the doctors and just crying uncontrollably. So many thoughts go through your head. Why? What happened? I blamed myself. Even after being told that about 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriages I still felt like a failure.
Sometimes I feel guilty for grieving. There are so many people in the world who have dealt with horrible miscarriages, stillbirth, the loss of a baby. I didn’t know I was pregnant, I wasn’t expecting it, we weren’t trying to fall pregnant. But I do grieve. A loss is still a loss. It’s obvious it’s effected me, it’s been 3 years and I still feel that loss at times.
For so long, I couldn’t be around babies, I’d tear up at the supermarket seeing Mothers with their children. Some days, I still find it hard to be around a baby, to be around toddlers, my mind wanders… what if?
So many questions. Would it have been a boy or a girl? Would I make a good parent? Does it make me less of a woman because I couldn’t carry a baby full term? Will I ever have the opportunity to see my belly swell and feel a life growing inside me?
Thankfully, I get to see my psych today.
I debated about posting this, some things often feel taboo to blog about, but this is my blog, and I get final call. Sometimes it’s hard to open myself up and share so much, but I think sometimes it’s needed. This blog is a part of me, and i’m far from perfect. I’ve turned off comments. This post is just something I needed to write and not something I wanted to open up to a public discussion.