After I lost the baby, it seemed easy to shrug off the loss.
“We weren’t that far along;” or “There’s a higher chance of miscarriage in first pregnancies;” or “We’ll try again.”
It was easy to convince everyone else, but a lot harder to convince myself.
My miscarriage happened while my husband and I were on holidays in Cuba. We were about to enter our 12th week when the bleeding started. We flew home on the next available flight. We learned we actually lost the baby three weeks before this, it just took my body time to begin the process of expelling the fetus.
It was a process my body didn’t finish. Six weeks after I started bleeding, my pregnancy hormone levels had stagnated. I had to have a Dilation and curettage (D&C) procedure done to remove the fetus from my body. This news came just days before my husband and I were to move across the province. I went to an abortion clinic’s walk-in hours to have the D&C.
Even after all that, I told myself things would be OK. I wasn’t that attached. I was going to be fine.
I threw myself into my new job and picked up running again. I also picked up some bad habits as well. I started drinking a little too much at night and began smoking again. Then there was the issue with other pregnancies - my sister was pregnant as well and was due the week after my due date would have been in the fall. I watched her belly grow, knowing mine was not going to develop like that. Her ultrasound photos broke my heart as a baby emerged in them. In the last ultrasound we had prior to our loss, our baby looked like a seahorse.
I helped plan her baby shower. That was the beginning of the end for me. It was hard sitting there as she was showered with presents of tiny outfits, blankets and toys. To get through the afternoon, I showered myself with wine.
Pregnancy loss is something we tend not to talk about. I thought I had been vocal during that time about my loss, but I wasn’t. I hid a lot of how I felt. Or at least I thought I did. My husband said it was pretty clear I was a mess.
As time went on, I didn’t know if I could go through another loss. I wanted to have a child with my husband, but didn’t want to risk my emotional well-being in case we had another miscarriage. It was then we decided we weren’t going to try again.
I was at peace with our decision, but still found myself emotional when people announced they were pregnant or when a baby was born. When a colleague of mine emailed a photo of her newborn son, I began to bawl at my desk.
Would the pain ever subside? I wondered.
About a month before we were to make our decision not to have kids permanent, my husband and I sat down one more time to talk about our decision. We made a decent amount of money and owned a nice home. We’d probably make good parents and offer a good life to a child. Was this really what we wanted?
We decided to put a pin in not having a baby. We’d try again, at least for a little while, and see what happened. We’d deal with what came next together.
Five weeks after that day, I took a pregnancy test.
Two lines stared back at me.
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