Making it Through My Miscarriage
Written by
October 2010
Written by
October 2010

This has to be the hardest blog post I've done. I've asked myself if it's the right thing to do. So many women want their miscarriage to be a private event. And mine is. But what's so difficult about the miscarriage--beyond the physical discomfort--is the emotional toll it takes. I've felt isolated with this. I knew it could be a possibility and once it was confirmed I've felt pregnant with guilt and hurt and blame. And suddenly everyone around me--good friends, 16-year-old girls, women at the doctor's office--is pregnant and I'm not. And there's a sense of shame that comes with that. Lots of blame. And questioning. Why did I tell people? Did I not want this pregnancy enough? Did I do something wrong? How come her and not me? This cyclical thinking can go on and on for hours and you find yourself alone at home, sinking into yourself more and more. You don't want to talk to people. You don't want to have to tell family or friends you're not pregnant anymore. You don't want to go out. You want to hide all your friends on Facebook who put up pics of their kids because it hurts to see something you don't have anymore. You want to pretend the last 8 weeks were a bad dream. That this isn't happening. The bottles of pills lined up on the counter aren't there. The box of pads by the toilet. The water bottles to combat dehydration. The constant cramping and nausea. You put away the pregnancy books. Delete the apps from your phone.

And during this time you still have to function! You still have to move on. Everyone else is. But as I've come out and talked about it to some family and co-workers, I've found that I'm not alone in this. Plenty of women (some estimates are as high as 50%) experience miscarriage and you often don't know who they are until you experience it too. Message boards have been my lifeline the last few days. I've had a lot of support from people I never thought to look for help from. They've asked questions. Offered advice. Books to read. But most importantly they've said, "I know what you're going through." That helps so much at a time like this where no one understands what you're going through (even well meaning friends and family) until they've gone through it. For me, writing has always been an outlet. And my blog never makes me feel alone. And whether or not some women would go so public, I've decided (and talked with my husband) that it's the best thing for me. It isn't for some women and there's nothing, nothing wrong with that. But this is how I recover. It's a private feeling not a dirty secret. This is the reason I've not blogged some days and may not this week. I hope as I recover that they'll be a better sense of clarity for me. I turn 30 next week and this was not the birthday present I saw for myself. But I hope I make it through as other women have, and if you've experienced this, know you're not alone either. And maybe motherhood isn't for me now. But I'd like it to be. Soon. And next time I pray for healthy and happy baby and me.

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  • Virginia Williams

    I'm so sorry for your loss. I two very early miscarriages and one stillbirth at full term. It will get better, I can promise you that, but it takes time. The world doesn't like to acknowledge lost babies, but it's such a common phenomenon. I am amazed by the number of women I have discovered who have lost a child. The numbers are too high, but that's another issue altogether.

    Hang in will get easier.

  • Barbara Ehrentreu

    I am very sorry you had to go through this. I remember how I felt when I had my miscarriage. I had been taking pills and doing birth control things for five years and then I tried and the the first month after I stopped the birth control I got pregnant. I had to be xrayed, since my husband was applying for a government job and I didn't know whether I was pregnant or not at that time. They put the lead apron over me, but a week afterward I had the miscarriage. My doctor said it was a blighted egg. I had no idea what that was, but I do know the devastation that I felt when I knew that it was gone.

    The pain I felt in my mind continued for years. I was jealous of anyone who got pregnant, even a friend. Though I showed a good face, it ate me up inside. I tried to get pregnant for seven years after that and I found I had fibroids, though they were not removed. I didn't take any drugs at that time, because it was the 70s and very few people did that. I'm not sure they were available then. So I gave up and decided I'd be happy without children. Then we moved to New York City and in six months of being there I got pregnant again. I now have two daughters aged 28 and 32 and though I didn't feel that I would ever have children, I did.

    After a miscarriage you feel like there is something wrong with you. You can't understand why you couldn't carry your baby to term. It's natural and you need to distract yourself or if you can't, join a support group. If you are healthy and there is no obstruction you will get pregnant again and have a healthy baby. I tried again for seven years and when I'd given up I got pregnant! You are very brave to have written about this. It will happen to you too. You have to have patience and hope.:)

  • C.D. Holmes-Miller

    The silent pain of barreness, no child and the fear of alternatives-- bonding with another woman's baby; OMG, Christmas is coming--no baby in the manger. (Now don't take that title from me--No Baby In The Manger!) C.D. Holmes-Miller, Copyrights 2010. Can't publish this until my children are 18...that's the end of the story, they showed up....have faith one way or the other!

  • Susan

    Very brave post that I'm sure will help a lot of women who have gone or are going through the same thing.

  • Holly Hughes

    I'm sorry for your loss. I've sufferd through 2 miscarriages in the last year and a half and have felt guilt, envy and pain when seeing others with their children. I hope you will enjoy a healthy pregnancy and happy baby soon.

  • Jessica Keenan Smith

    Okay so, lets start with you are not alone. So not alone. And it is not a dirty secret. I've included a link to the story I wrote about my own loss which was published in Exhalezine, an online zine you might relate to. My story is about feeling irrelevant during a time of loss similar to yours:

    Start by giving yourself time to heal both emotionally and physically. Then see if you can get angry--it's okay, the world can deal. After that you will find you see the world through a different lens.

    Hang in there,

  • suzi banks baum

    Dearest ChickTalkDallas,

    You certainly are not alone. Ever. Thank you for posting about your miscarriage. I am so sorry for your loss. I am so sorry for you and your husband. I send you deep love and condolences.

    I too miscarried, twice. I do have 2 healthy, strong kids who are now teens, but in the years around those miscarriages, nothing existed for me but a sad tang of ache for the babies I lost.

    I now know them as angels. As gifts. As openings to compassion I never knew I had a capacity for.

    In the days of my sadness, I too opened my mouth about what was happening in my life. Hard to answer the question of "How are you?" without gulping and clutching tissues, right? I was a subscriber to Mothering magazine, which at the time has little to nothing about pregnancy losses. I wrote a letter to the editor, which they published. It served to air my sadness a bit and allowed me to speak a bit more freely. I got connected with an organization in St. Louis....can't recall the name now, but I am sure you could find them. They are directed to support families, women suffering sadness such as yours. It helped.

    What also helped was talking to older women. I learned more about my Mom and my Aunts than I ever expected. Had I not spoken up, I would not have learned about some very tender passages in my Mom's life and in others in our family and friends. Mom talked about how silent the world can be to grief. And about the surprises she had experienced during her difficult times. It helped me.

    The title of your blog caught my eye as I am writing at my desk...about my Mom, who died on October 10. It is a funny path to comfort, receiving the random gifts of light that appear at just the right moment. So, again, thank you for posting.

    I look forward to your next pregnancy and the ones after that.
    I hold the vision of you with an armful of healthy baby.
    I hold your tender heart with love from mine.

    Keep writing.
    Love, Suzi