Miscarriage

I knew women who had had miscarriages. This information was always somehow embarrassing, a TMI secret, and I never knew what to say. The elephant in the room. Briefly acknowledged then never mentioned again. We are not taught about miscarriages, and they were never something that were ever openly discussed, at least not in my world. I never thought of miscarriages in any more detail than a few cramps and some momentary sadness. Most of my information came from tv, movies and books; I could be wrong, of course, but if soap operas are anything other than completely unrealistic portrayals of life then they would be classed as educational tv along with Nova and W5.

Point is, I knew miscarriages could happen, but I was completely unprepared when it happened. I did not know about the stunning devastation, the crazy denial, the inconsolable sadness. I didn't expect to wake up crying weeks and months after it happened, and I had no idea that even now, four years later, that thinking about my poor lost baby, for yes indeed people, that was my baby, would bring tears to my eyes.

And a terrible thing: for a while, I was the elephant in the room. I endured embarrassment, thoughtless comments, and abrupt changes in topic. I learned not to talk about this huge, overwhelming grief, the loss of my baby. I feel so bad for how I treated other women. I was uninformed and thoughtless, not uncaring, but I wish I could go back and do better.