Two weeks ago I endured my first post-miscarriage "Guess what!? I'm pregnant!" announcement. Life has mostly resumed back to normal despite feelings of inadequacy as I can't seem to transition seamlessly into my next phase of life the way everyone else my age seems to do so effortlessly. I no longer think about my miscarriage with sadness, yet in the moments where I allow myself to be caught up in my thoughts I start shedding my frustration that I not only have infertility, but also had to find out I miscarried on the same day that my sister had her baby (it just feels cruel). Regardless, life has segued back into my normal routine and for the most part I'm relatively indifferent to what transpires around me, and feel mostly content again.
And then the day came that would inevitably stop me abrupt in my oblivious state. My coworker came up to me and said, "I have something to tell you!". I still didn't catch on what was about to happen when I replied, "what?". "I'm pregnant!" she cried out in excitement and laughs. My face broke out into a huge smile and I cried out the obligatory congratulations and hugs. I asked her how far along she was and she said (gulp) "eight weeks!". Knowing my own baby stopped growing at 8 weeks was like putting salt on a wound I thought was almost healed. As she carried on in elation with the details of her happy news I felt my insides eating me up. Due to my close relationship with this coworker I knew I couldn't just continue to carry on this conversation when the words "MISCARRIAGE! MISCARRIAGE!" penetrated my thoughts. I was all-consumed by what her news triggered upon me and I just blurted out without much deliberation, "I had a miscarriage a few months ago....". Suddenly her excited face turned to a horrified gasp as she put her hands over her mouth and uttered, "oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!". I felt like such a jerk as this is the last thing that a pregnant women in early pregnancy needs to hear.
What ensued was actually quite comforting as her and I retreated to her office and I let the whole story stumble out of my mouth as she listened on intently. I apologized for putting a damper on her good news, but I knew she genuinely was appreciative that I felt I could open up to her about something that was definitely on her own "worry radar". I was glad that I decided to tell her because I know that she maintained some sensitivity around me in the following weeks by understanding that perhaps I wasn't going to share in her enthusiasm to the degree others might as her belly begins to swell, and she begins to complain of fatigue, nausea, etc. Then came the obligatory, "oh my gosh, you can get pregnant again and we can be pregnant together!". I chuckled at how many times I've heard this said before to me in hopes of encouraging me to be optimistic about my own pursuits. My cousin said it to me last year and she now has a 6 month old baby. As much fun as it is to think these things, it's frustrating to set goals that you'll be pregnant by "XX" time because that date has come and gone for me many times over.
I left the office that day feeling OK, but woke up the next morning feeling a huge sense of defeat. The mere idea that I had to see this coworker everyday and watch her belly grow at roughly the same time period that this was supposed to be happening to me was a harsh reality that I did not want to encounter. Yet, like any obstacle I'm faced with, I dealt with this by ripping the band-aid off as fast as possible to avoid any lingering and unnecessary stinging. At a time most assume I might avoid her, I found that I suddenly was drawn to her. Since that day she revealed her news I talk to her nearly everyday and ask her how she is feeling as we make some cracks about bloating or her new love for club soda and Sprite. It amuses me that I can even relate to her and some of her pregnancy symptoms....here is me, the girl that was barely pregnant, FINALLY able to contribute to the pregnancy conversation on a tangent about bloating and fatigue.
Last week, a different coworker and I were engaged in conversation in which she asked me how long I had been married. When I replied that it had been 3 years I then held my breath as I knew the subsequent question that trails it. And like clockwork, she asked, "are you guys ready to start a family?". In that moment I froze because I wasn't sure if I should tell her the truth or just brush it off, but then her next words took me by surprise. "Oh that is such a personal question, oh gosh, I'm sorry". I then laughed with relief that she somehow "understood" without really knowing what had happened to me. I shook my head and simply said, "oh that is OK, maybe next year..." which was the formulaic answer I used to tell people that had asked me in the past year as our woes with infertility were beginning to unravel. I thought about her ability to immediately correct herself and apologize for asking such a personal question and wondered how she knew it was "too personal". Typically, unless you or someone you know has gone through it, you really don't know what you don't know. Moreover, why was it such a personal question? Isn't it appropriate to be naturally curious about someone's life and their plans for a family? If she had asked me this question two years ago I wouldn't have even flinched as so much laugh at her and say, "eh, maybe when we're 40!" implying that it was not even near my radar. Yet now, however, it was personal.
Today is a meaningful day for Jon and I as October 15th is pregnancy and infant loss awareness day. The purpose of the day is to acknowledge all the grieving couples out there who have suffered a loss, but hesitate to speak openly. As I've mentioned before, I have felt that it's my responsibility to raise awareness to my own struggles in hopes of reaching out to someone else that may be quietly suffering from something similar. However, I have not been forthcoming about my miscarriage to the general public because I want it to be a monstrous surprise when we do finally fall pregnant. After that, I don't care who knows about our infertility or miscarriage. Yet, I still want to heed notice to my own misfortune in hopes of subliminally seeking out others on Facebook (or elsewhere) that are quietly struggling. If only there was a way to seek each other out without intentionally declaring it. I decided to use this day to my advantage to post on FB about the importance of the day while only subtly drawing attention to myself. Some may read it and wonder if this special day personally applies to me, but I doubt anyone would ever flat out ask me if I've had a miscarriage unless they had a personal reason to wonder....and that's OK. Here is what I wrote on Facebook:
October 15th is pregnancy and infant loss awareness day. This is the day to acknowledge, commemorate, and grant a voice to all those men and women that have suffered a loss in silence and also to raise awareness to these unfortunate yet all too common tragedies because so many suffer in silence. This post is for all of my friends and family to honor your courage and dedicate this day to you and your loss.
And maybe someday after we fall pregnant and have kids of our own, thus being publicly open about our struggles to get there.......here is what I hope to post:
I dedicate today to Isaac David Eckroth who stopped growing on August 17th, 2012 merely a month after I first learned I was pregnant. This day is in memory and in honor of all the grieving families out there that suffer from miscarriage, stillbirth and infancy loss. May today bring the voice you need to let others know that they are not alone in their silent struggles. This post is for all of my friends, family, and my husband to honor your courage and dedicate this day to you and your loss. You are not alone.
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