My first pregnancy ended in a very early miscarriage. Most of my family and friends did not know until now.
I never wanted to tell them. It felt too personal, like too much of a failure.
Even to me this seems like a bad dream. I have two daughters and a son on the way. But there was that first baby, who feels very real--maybe a guardian angel for my children here on earth; maybe a guardian angel for me.
Mike and I were not trying to get pregnant. But there I was, pregnant and surprised. And overjoyed.
I was planning a trip to Malawi for work. I had to tell my boss, a woman, that I could not go, because I could not get the required vaccinations while pregnant.
Of course, I thought my boss would not feel the need to share my pregnancy with the entire Board of Directors, her boss and who knows who else. When my pregnancy ended a couple weeks later in a miscarriage: she had to tell everyone too.
I was mortified--it felt like I was the walking symbol of infertility; of failed pregnancy; of failed motherhood.
One of the Board members came to me and said:
"Trish, I heard. And you know, it just sucks."
It is and was the perfect characterization of my loss. It just sucked. It sucked to be on the path to motherhood and then very quickly turned back around to non-motherhood. It sucked that strangers I saw and worked with everyday had to know my personal story. It sucked that I was too sad to tell my story to those closest to me.
I did, however, tell my sister in law, who had experienced a pregnancy loss. She told me that having a miscarriage puts you in a large club: that so many women experience a miscarriage and so many don't talk about it.
But, today on October 15: we are talking about it and we are not alone.
To learn more about today, connect with parents and share your story, visit:
www.october15th.com
I never wanted to tell them. It felt too personal, like too much of a failure.
Even to me this seems like a bad dream. I have two daughters and a son on the way. But there was that first baby, who feels very real--maybe a guardian angel for my children here on earth; maybe a guardian angel for me.
Mike and I were not trying to get pregnant. But there I was, pregnant and surprised. And overjoyed.
I know my girls and my boy have a guardian angel. |
Of course, I thought my boss would not feel the need to share my pregnancy with the entire Board of Directors, her boss and who knows who else. When my pregnancy ended a couple weeks later in a miscarriage: she had to tell everyone too.
I was mortified--it felt like I was the walking symbol of infertility; of failed pregnancy; of failed motherhood.
One of the Board members came to me and said:
"Trish, I heard. And you know, it just sucks."
It is and was the perfect characterization of my loss. It just sucked. It sucked to be on the path to motherhood and then very quickly turned back around to non-motherhood. It sucked that strangers I saw and worked with everyday had to know my personal story. It sucked that I was too sad to tell my story to those closest to me.
I did, however, tell my sister in law, who had experienced a pregnancy loss. She told me that having a miscarriage puts you in a large club: that so many women experience a miscarriage and so many don't talk about it.
But, today on October 15: we are talking about it and we are not alone.
To learn more about today, connect with parents and share your story, visit:
www.october15th.com
xoxox love you
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