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It's not always easy.

Sima Tamaddon

Photo by Yogivanna

Photo by Yogivanna

What we don't speak of we are afraid of. I have been trying to write about my miscarriage for a few weeks but every time I sat down to write I was overwhelmed with emotions. I am still emotional but it was time I kept telling myself. So I sat down to write and I kept saying how do I write about something no one talks about.

The statistics of miscarriage are too high for me to write about so I know that more people are touched by this than I want to imagine and that's not the point, miscarriages being common doesn't mean they don't hurt. People who found out, some would tell me about how it wasn't meant to be or everything happens for a reason or some even told me how high the possibility of miscarriage were. None of that helped. A few, those that had been been through it, usually just said the only thing I wanted to hear, "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't make sense. I'm sorry."

As the first few mornings came I would wake up and ask, my husband with tear filled eyes if it was all a bad dream, he would shake his head no and I would choke on my tears knowing that it wasn't. However, I held onto hope that it was just a bad pregnancy dream for a few days until I just started to feel my stomach shrinking. I would massage it as I tenderly did for the weeks I was pregnant. I remember the first time we saw our baby's heartbeat on the sonogram it was so strong at 148. The sound was almost mesmerizing. After the initial ultrasound we did the unthinkable we told people before 12 weeks because I felt confident . We told our daughters, I even shared it to Facebook with my 1400 closet friends. Two weeks later we went in for a routine exam and the doctor offered a sonogram our eyes lit with excitement. We get to see him again. The machine went on and I couldn't hear the fast thumping sound, the doctor quickly turned off the microphone and I knew in that second something was terribly wrong. Her face said it all, my husbands eyes were following her eyes as they searched on the screen as she moved the sonogram wand. Then she spoke. I didn't hear much after,

"I'm sorry but your baby's heart has stopped." 

The tears flooded the room. She gave us some time and came back with our options. I could not even listen or think. I was in shock. I kept asking was it the way I ate, my workouts, she wouldn't humor me. It's not your fault she would repeat.  We went home that afternoon and I was angry. At myself, at the world, I wanted my baby back.  I woke up and I thought the doctor most have been wrong and so we went back to the hospital and I was clearly in a panic and they gave me another ultrasound. Quiet. Nothing. I wept more. The baby was gone. 

As the weeks passed I have had some good days and some bad moments. I have struggled with blaming myself from every meal, the vitamins, to how I choose to sweat. Nothing will bring back the baby and I understand that but the struggle is real.  

I'm not sure I have the answers but I know that posting stats on percentages of pregnancies that end in miscarriage was not what I wanted to see or hear. I wanted to know that blame, struggle, pain, doubt were all normal feelings , that I wasn't alone. I know I'm not and I'm grateful for every friend who shared their own pain. We are all bonded but let's not hide life. It's not always easy.

We are not alone.