Four days ago I discovered that I was in the process of losing a baby.
Mind you, a baby I didn't realize was there in the first place, but still a baby.
I've never gone through this before.
I assure you, I didn't want to be pregnant. My youngest son--now six years old--was a surprise occurrence after my husband's eight-year-old vasectomy. Obviously the urologist was a hack or we're just freaks of nature, whatevs.
But anyway. Last week I had a four-day fever, and I kid you not... one day break of feeling semi-okay before I thought my monthly visitor decided to pay me a visit. Except it wasn't.
It was the beginning of losing.
And here I am, sad that I'll miss out on a lifetime with a child that I really wasn't ready to bring into this world. Upset that I've been strapped into this rollercoaster ride again. Feeling pretty awful, energy and cramp-wise. Mad that I can't deal with the bleeding in a convenient way. Frankly, pissed that the bleeding will never, ever end. Annoyed that my life doesn't wait for me to heal--kids still need to be driven places, animals still need to be fed, grandparents still need someone to watch over them.
Hurt that my husband has yet to ask if I am okay. To say he's sorry.
I wonder if he realizes how big this is? How shocking this is?
I wasn't ready to go through this, but it did happen. No one needs to feel sorry for me, but it's okay to ask how I'm doing. I realize this might not be the same for everyone, and that's okay.
But I think it's also okay to admit that, no matter how a woman gets to this place, it doesn't feel good and it doesn't feel fair to go through the losing process.We whisper about miscarriage, but it's okay to talk about it out loud, too. We shouldn't have to do this alone.
