Bringing miscarriage into the open
When you’re suffering from a miscarriage, it can feel as though you’re the only person who has ever felt such tremendous heartache. I know firsthand what that loneliness and pain feel like and for that reason, I shared my words for those who might need to hear them.
Just like that, our dreams were crushed
It was nearly four years ago that we learned that we would lose our baby.
The doctor held the ultrasound probe and explained that our baby's heart had stopped beating days before.
With no sign of miscarriage, we were shocked and heartbroken.
There in the cold office, in a tender voice from my typically no-nonsense obstetrician, we were told our options. I could take medication to make my body miscarry, I could have a dilation and curettage to remove our baby or I could go home and try to let my body do its job.
We chose the latter.
Miscarriage and loneliness
As we walked out of the doctor's office, I wracked my brain for anyone I could call who knew the pain of miscarriage... anyone who would understand what I was going through and who could offer me reassurance that I would be OK.
"The doctor held the ultrasound probe and explained that our baby's heart had stopped beating days before."
Yet, I came up empty and I've never felt more alone than I did in those first few hours.
But, in the process of grieving our loss, I opened up to my family and friends, only to hear their similar stories... stories of loss... stories of tremendous heartbreak.
With each story, I felt less alone and began to see that I would one day reach the point where I could make it through an hour, a day, a month without crying.
Miscarriage is a topic that few people want to talk about, yet when you're going through the motions of loss, trying to hold yourself together, it is those stories of strength that help you to cope.
Sharing my story, for myself and for others
Because I know how important it is to speak openly and share stories of surviving loss, when Listen To Your Mother, a national series of live readings in celebration of Mother's Day, put out a casting call earlier this year, I so desperately wanted to read my words.
I will be forever grateful for that opportunity to take the stage and share my story of loss.
For every woman who is able to talk through her grief, there is another who holds her heartbreak inside and grieves privately.
It is for every woman who knows the pain of miscarriage, for those who can talk openly and for those who can't bring themselves to put their pain into words, that I read my story to the Listen To Your Mother audience that night.
It is for each of those six days when I was comforted by the stories of others while waiting for my body to miscarry our baby that I spoke these words:
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