I want to talk about something real. Something that might make some of you upset, but it might also help someone. This is a sensitive subject for a lot of women, so I am not going to go into too much detail. I just want to share my experience to shed new light on this situation that affects so many of us.
I recently had a miscarriage. I know that sentence may surprise you, upset you, or make you pity me, but please don’t. I have grieved in the past few months, and I am now ready to come forward with my experience.
My miscarriage was considered “early” because I lost my child at only five weeks pregnant. This is also considered a chemical pregnancy, and most first pregnancies are of this nature. Simply put, when it came time for the embryo to implant itself into the lining of my uterus, it didn’t. My baby literally didn’t stick.
You may be confused as to why I grieved so long, and why I still feel empty when thinking of my almost-child. The truth is we were trying for that baby. We started trying because we were engaged, we were wanting a family, and we were financially able to support a child. I’ve heard from many parents of all different types that there is no right time for kids. It may be best to get into a solid career or have enough money saved up before trying, but how many people do you know who really did that? I’m having trouble just thinking of one.
My husband and I are atheists, and this plays a big part in our lives. We lived together before marriage. We tried to conceive a baby before marriage. We have done a lot of things that goes against most religions. This fact might help explain some things.
The day I married my husband, I was four weeks and four days pregnant. We decided the morning of our wedding day that it would be our wedding day, and were married at 11:00 pm that night. It was a wonderful time.
The morning of November 20, I woke up in the worst pain of my life. I was five weeks pregnant, and losing my child. I felt everything because I couldn’t bring myself to numb the pain. It may have been odd, but I needed to feel the pain of losing him to justify the emotional pain that followed.
The hardest time of my life began November 20, and I have no idea when or if it will be over. Remember my religious beliefs? I have never once thought my baby went to Heaven, I do not refer to him as an angel, and the phrase “God needed him back” brings me zero comfort. How do you help someone through this pain when there is no higher power to comfort them?
My advice is to speak the truth. Give this person statistics and research and science to comfort them. One in four women go through this. It’s common, and it means you have a better chance of carrying to term the next time. My main comfort were the stories of miscarriage from the women around me. They had come out the other side, and were there to help me, too.
Miscarriage is not talked about enough. Women keep it to themselves, and grieve on their own time. Without knowing these women in my life had experienced the same suffering and could help me through it, I would never have found comfort.
It has been almost six months since my baby was lost. We decided to give him a name. We are all about science, so we decided he had to be a baby boy. Boys are conceived more easily, but they are more likely to be miscarried than girls. There is just a greater chance that my first child was a boy, so we had to find a name suitable for him.
I wish I could have met you, Parker. You will always be loved and missed, more than you could have ever known. Today, my first Mother’s Day as a grieving mother, I mourn the loss of my child. Parker was the size of a sesame seed, but he meant the world to me.
When a baby arrives
Be it for a day, a month, a year or more,
Or perhaps only
A sweet flickering moment
The fragile spark of a tender soul
The secret swell of a new pregnancy
The goldfish flutter known to only you
You are mistakenly changed…
The tiny footprints left
Behind on your heart
Bespeak your name as Mother.