Silent Loss

Miscarriages are violent creatures.

First, you find out you are pregnant.
Maybe you wanted this little one. Maybe you prayed long and hard for her conception.
Maybe this is a shocking surprise, but you are thrilled nonetheless.
Maybe this is so shocking, it is almost sad and you are completely filled with great trepidation.

Second, you wrap your head around it.
Or at least try.
Amount of time this takes varies greatly from one experience to the next.

Third, you begin to bleed.
And you feel as if all hell had broken loose in your heart.
Maybe you are devastated. You hoped for so long.
Maybe you are sad, but not surprised.
Maybe you are relieved and beating yourself up for feeling it.

Fourth, you carry on.
No one sees the sad day your heart is crushed.
No one sees that you are dying inside.
No one sees the moment you can't forgive yourself.

So you choose to talk about it.
I chose to talk about it.
I found so much support and compassion.
I have had miscarriages that looked like all three^^ scenarios.
I still found huge support.

But then one day, it is  enough.
My baby went to Heaven months ago.
No one really remembers.
But my heart is still crushed.

And instead of carrying on as if nothing is wrong, my hair is still falling out.
My breasts still tingle and think about making milk.
My mood is a bit vulnerable.
My cycle is a touch topsy-turvy.
And all shall remain so till I reach close proximity for April 19.

See, no one wants to know all th^se things.
But I face them every day.
I just hope I still have *some* hair left when April rolls around.
If I really end up with milk, I will pump it for a friend.

But what I really want... is more children.