I have thought about how to put this into words and there’s no other word than this one phrase: “It hurts”.
It hurts like an open wound.
When I found out I was pregnant in the early weeks of this year, It was the happiest and the scariest day of my life. But I was proud of myself. I felt like I had finally achieved something worth being proud of. (this might not make sense to you but for me, being a mother has been something I had wanted and waited for, for a long time)
I felt like everything was finally working out. I felt blessed and I couldn’t wait to carry my baby.
I read all pregnancy books and articles, I shopped online and booked all relevant appointments.
Then suddenly, without warning, a routine doctor’s appointment brought the bad news. I heard things like no heartbeat, collapsed gestational sack and non-viable. I was told to wait until two weeks to confirm what I already knew in my gut. My baby had stopped growing and the pregnancy was no longer viable.
Sadly on a Thursday before the two weeks elapsed, I woke up covered in blood.
It was all over.
The doctors were all full of statistics that was supposed to be consoling but it doesn’t help. Things like 50% of pregnancies are miscarried in the first trimester. So who says I must be among that 50%.
Why can’t I be among the 50% that delivered a healthy baby ?
My body is healing but my heart is broken and it will take some time but I know eventually I will be Okay. I have been consoled, I have been hugged and encouraged and told that God knows best and the next one will be fine and everything will be all right.
But I am sad.
I can fix my hair and wear make up and smile and laugh but I’m deeply hurt. I hurt every time I see a baby or pictures of babies. I hurt every time I hear cute baby stories. I am reminded of my loss.
I am told the pain will go away but I don’t know when. I am trying to forget but I don’t know if I can.