Miscarriage exposes one’s fragility, but less visibly, it also brings out a toughness, a sort of courage mixed with frustration and a dollop of rage. I asked her why she wanted a child so badly. “Someone said I couldn’t,” she said. p. 101
I intimately know this feeling! I was never really into having biological children until my miscarriages. I had always thought that once I decided to have children that it would be appropriate for me to be infertile, since adoption was in my parenting plan all along. My tune sure changed with that first miscarriage. It was almost like a vendetta that I needed to follow through with. I was obsessed. It was the only thought on my mind. Since I knew that I could get pregnant, my issue was carrying the baby to term. With my next pregnancy I tried it all. Positive energy and affirmations. When I lost that pregnancy as well, instead of rage I felt futility. Why even try to influence my body, when I can’t trust what it will do?
I believe that most of my frustration stemmed from the lack of control. It seemed like there was no one else as committed to the processes of conception and pregnancy than I was. And this is so true. This was my cross to bear, my story. My own problem that I felt that I needed to fix. I wanted answers and facts and testing. I was ready to take these steps when I first found out that I was carrying a non-viable pregnancy. It took months to convince anyone else that testing might be appropriate. As I sit here today remembering, that was the most frustrating part.
During my successful pregnancy I mostly remember feeling either numb or terrified. I haven’t yet looked into the statistics of this, but I know that my other girlfriends who miscarried felt this as well. There was almost no middle ground. The unknown and the lack of control or knowledge was devastating. As the pregnancy progressed, I actually felt worse. I felt that the more she developed, the more that I had to lose.
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