Miscarriage.  The only thing people talk about it the fact that it's hard.  And "I've been through that" or "that happened to my sister."

But no one tells you what to expect.  Not even the doctors.

No one told me how badly it would hurt, physically, that the pain would be a whole heck of a lot like contractions.  Which, *hello-o,* makes  sense!  They WERE contractions!!  My body had to rid the 'contents' of my uterus.  And it hurt like the day I gave birth to my daughter.  But there was no joy at the end of the pain...which made it worse and almost unbearable.  I kept reminding myself that at least I knew it was coming.  That I didn't wake up one morning with the pain I was experiencing and not have a clue what was happening.  For me, I had prepared myself for something.  I knew my child was dead.  I knew that eventually, one way or another, I had to become unpregnant.  But that didn't make the pain go away.  The fact that there wouldn't be a child to hold in my arms at the end of it all only intensified the pain I was feeling.

I remember texting a friend of mine the gory details of what was happening.  I needed to know if it was normal.  But her miscarriage had been earlier than mine and happened much differently.  But weeks later I ran into someone who had had a similar experience.  Her words, "I didn't realize it would be so much like giving birth..."  My only reasoning as to why my doctors (two different practices mind you) didn't inform me of the possibilities is that it happens differently for each woman.  But I wish I had been a bit more prepared.  Give me a few different scenarios, even if it doesn't happen....I feel like knowing is better.

Then, it was the ridiculous stuff people say.  Now, being fair, I guess I was prepared for some of this.  But, still...it's one of the unpleasant things you don't think of before you experience it.  For instance, "God needed you baby."  False.  God doesn't need anyone.  And He certainly wouldn't kill a soul to get what He needed.  My child died because we live in a fallen world.  Period.  End of story.  Not because God needed someone else.  And then there's the assumption that my child wasn't even a life yet.  Um...excuse me?  I don't care what you believe.  I believe my child was a life on the day he/she was conceived.  And I'm not sure how you can argue with the fact that my child had a heartbeat that stopped.  There was one.  And then there wasn't one.  In the medical world, they would call "Time of Death" when the patient's heart stops beating.  My child's heart stopped beating.  And regardless, after a miscarriage is never a time to comment on when you believe life begins....unless asked.  And I didn't ask.

And lastly, there is the day to day in the months that follow.  No one told me about the ache in the pit of my stomach every time I see the mommas who are due around the same time I was.  No one told me I would subconsciously hold my belly each time I see another picture on Facebook of the beautiful growing bellies all dressed up for Halloween....especially when they are the same moms you carried with the first time around, the same moms who announced their second pregnancies right around the same time as you...

No one tells you about the guilt you feel because you want to get pregnant again so badly.  Not to replace the child that would have been....but because you just want to grow your family.  And this wasn't a part of the plan!!  

No one tells you about the dread you have for the month of that child's due date.  It will be a bittersweet time.  Full of joy for those mom's who are due and the new babies that will get to see the world for the first time.  But full of sadness because we won't be celebrating like we thought we would.  The day I have circled on all of my calendars is now just an ordinary, run of the mill day...  I dread turning the page for that one.

And then comes the guilt again.  This time because of the jealousy I feel toward all of those moms.  

No one tells you these things.  No one tells you about the physical pain.  But worse yet, no one tells you that when you suffer a miscarriage your heart will be torn from your chest and stomped on.  You'll pick it up, wipe it off, and put it back...because you have to.  You have to keep on living.  But your wounded heart, it will never be the same.  A piece is missing, a piece that can never be replaced.  Like a puzzle with a missing piece, it will never be quite right again...  And some days it won't feel so bad.  You won't notice it.  Until one day you see another picture of a couple expecting or you brush your fingers across the skin of a new born child...and the ache appears again.

I know those achy moments will become farther and farther apart as life moves on.  But I don't believe they will ever end.  Not when I'm 50 and not when I'm 80.  And no one told me.

 

Published by Bri Sherman