It would have been due in December. This life that I can feel leaving my body as I write this. All the hopes and dreams and worries and everything. Flowing out of me, with no way to save it.
Having a miscarriage is bad enough, but to add insult to injury my body has decided to make it official on a night where we have no water. Fuck you, body.
Will I be able to have more children? Probably. Am I “lucky” it happened now and not later? Sure. But none of that makes this feel better.
I always thought I would want to talk about it with people if I went through something like this. I like to talk about everything. But this makes me wish no one knew. Now I have to tell them I’m no longer pregnant. It isn’t many people, but I still don’t want to have the conversation. I just want to hide.
I’ve tried to make myself feel better. It’s meant to be. It’s God’s plan. Now we have more time to save for maternity leave. I tell myself that I can drink the bottle of wine in the cupboard. That Ryan and I will go somewhere as a consolation for not getting a baby. But it doesn’t help. All I want is for this not to be happening.
I’m writing this from my phone at 1:30am, because I can’t fall asleep. I have to go to work tomorrow. I have to act like nothing is wrong. I try not to cry at home because it is understandably upsetting to James. “Stop crying, Mama,” he says. “Mama sad.” Yes, baby, mama is sad.
I know that these powerful feelings will fade. That in a day or a week or a month it won’t be so raw. But right now it sucks.
I’m publishing this because while I don’t want to talk about it right now, I also don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. I share happy news and stuff here, but I also need to share the sad.
This was written a few weeks ago. I’m doing much better now, although it still sucks. To put it lightly.