iPhone Notes After My Miscarriage

Yes, this is vulnerable and a crystal clear window into my heart and mind. But I wrote it for a reason, I felt these emotions for a reason, and I want to share. 

December 27th: 2 months after miscarriage 

These weeks before I can test for pregnancy are so brutal. 

Every day I’m googling things, and constantly checking for symptoms. And everyday I convince myself I feel 100% normal, and that my body would just know if I was pregnant. And other days I feel some random twinge or cramp and all of a sudden I’m sure I’m pregnant.  And I can imagine so clearly missing my period and taking a test, and it feeling perfect. 

But I can just as strongly imagine starting my period and in that single instant all the excitement goes away. It’s so exhausting. I keep myself awake all night because I can’t turn my brain off. Because what if? 

I’m pretty sure I know everything there is to know about “week 4 of pregnancy” and “__day post ovulation” because I’m just waiting for my body to do something that I’ve been reading about. I’m just waiting to have any confirmation that isn’t that I just feel normal. 

People see a positive pregnancy test and are excited for you. They hear about a miscarriage and are sad for you. But do they know how much time, energy, thoughts, and action went into those results? 

Do they know the conversations we had for months leading up to this decision?

Do they know all the scared google searches that were made? 

Do they know about the sleepless nights? The ones where you just can’t seem to turn your brain off? 

Do they know how many times I rushed to the bathroom to see if I had discharge or blood in my underwear? 

Do they know how many tears I’ve shed? 

How many prayers I’ve sent up? 

Do they know the jokes my husband and I share just to forget how scared we are?

Do they know that I peed on a stick to track ovulation every day for months? 

Do they know how much money I spent on pregnant tests once I got two lines? 

Do they know the feeling of your life changing in literally one second? 

And then your life being taken away with one phone call? One blood test? 

I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone. 

I envy the people who come across this miracle as an accident.  

No one’s ever said it to me, but I wonder if people don’t think a 5.5 week miscarriage is valid of the title. 

But it’s not only sad because I was pregnant and then I wasn’t. It was sad because that experience was preceded by everything listed above. 

Even if a woman is pregnant for 3 weeks. If she knew, and then that blessing was taken away from her— it is a crushing experience. 

You feel like your body is a failure. 

You feel hopeless it will ever work again. 

You feel paralyzed with fear that it will happen again. 

You feel anxious to tell anyone. Maybe it ruined the surprise. Maybe people are insensitive. Maybe you don’t want anyone’s opinions. 

But telling people was good for me. I like being taken care of. I like the texts, I like the empathy. It makes me feel closer, it makes it feel more real, and it makes me feel hopeful. Because we’re not alone.