Part II: Pregnancy loss.
[Trigger Warning: Miscarriage is addressed directly below.]
Is miscarriage a useful term?
I experienced a miscarriage in between my first and second child. Reading the phrase is respectful but doesn’t embody the emotion that goes along with a miscarriage. I suffered a miscarriage because I was devastated by the loss of an 11-week pregnancy, a child I never met but lost. I was tormented internally for a year but didn’t feel that I could share the experience. I was embarrassed and I hid that I was hurting badly and for a long time. The experience of the loss was pretty intense for me. I grieved every day. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I lost my baby. I would fall asleep at 9 p.m. out of sheer exhaustion each night and then wake up at 3 a.m. and was not able to fall back asleep. I stayed up and thought about everything I did, ate, wore, and how that could have contributed to the miscarriage. I was paralyzingly scared that my body would not be able to hold another child. I felt extremely out of control. I couldn’t focus at work; I was tired and irritable all of the time. My son was 1.5 years old, and I was afraid I was going to lose him, too.
I finally became pregnant four months later (the longest four months I have ever experienced in my life). During my entire pregnancy, I suffered from severe anxiety because I was so afraid to lose this baby too. That anxiety didn’t subside until the moment my daughter was born, and I could see, with my very own eyes, that she was healthy and alive. I know I am not alone when I say that it is a life-changing event to lose a child, even if the child was still so small.