Content note: pregnancy & miscarriage
A little over a year ago, I got married. Earlier this year I was going through my first pregnancy and it resulted in a miscarriage.
There’s this shameful feeling of naiveness inside me. I genuinely didn’t know how common it was. I don’t know anyone it has happened to. My relationship with my body has always been complicated but I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself the way I hated and blamed my body a couple of months ago. And, the most overwhelming feeling: the shame.
There were some angry days. Those days where I remember that the doctors wouldn’t see me because of COVID. I would get really emotional and blame “the others who weren’t careful with COVID” for the very little medical care I received. Or when I received a call from a nurse regarding my pregnancy a week after I notified them that I miscarried and she didn’t even ask me if I was okay. I wasn’t okay and I felt so small when people reduced the importance of my pregnancy based on how far along I was.
Other days, I am okay. I remember how my body knows best and it happened because it wasn’t a viable pregnancy then. On the days I am less emotional, I remember how common it is and how it isn’t a reflection of my value, how it wasn’t my fault and I thank my body for trying to recover.
Some days I put my feet up and have a glass of wine. Then I remember how I wouldn’t be having a glass of wine if I was still pregnant. And I cry again. Grieving the “what could have been”, especially when landmark dates are hit.
It’s been one year that I’ve been working from home, rarely seeing other people from outside the household. My body only started to heal well after a month and for a while, I couldn’t even look at the spot in the house where I felt that cramp without crying. And yet I had nowhere else to go.
It took me a while to tell some of my friends. I deeply care and trust a lot of people but I was too ashamed to tell anyone. Not a lot of people knew I was pregnant anyway. Because of the pandemic, everyone has been having a terrible time so why should I bother them about my problems? Consequently, I isolated myself quite a bit. I cancelled all the events I was supposed to attend and participate in because I stopped being able to predict if I was going to feel okay that day. I became even slower to reply to messages. I stopped checking social media. I didn’t want to speak to anyone because I didn’t know what to say but I wanted to feel to world hugging me.
We need to talk more about miscarriages because they suck and they are so lonely. Nobody talks about it until they had one. Why is there a hidden expectation of not telling anyone about a miscarriage so that we don’t disappoint family and friends with bad news when they should be the ones that we go to for support? Why did nobody teach us in school about how common miscarriages are?
To my friends that I shared this with, thank you for showering me with love, warmth, flowers, presents and phone calls and messages - thank you from the bottom of my heart. If only I could hug you.
I’m sorry I’ve been quiet. I realise now that I accidentally missed achievements and birthdays and more. I just really struggled and didn’t cope well in giving support (especially online) to everyone I care about whilst going through this.
And to my dear husband, who I can’t speak for as this has also happened to him, thank you for being by my side.
It is never too late to wish this: I hope we end the stigma.