In memory

Lately I have been thinking back to the first time I was pregnant and consequently my first miscarriage. Maybe it is because I so frequently hear about miscarriages and my heart always goes out to these women. I also know that no two situations are the same but I do know from experience how difficult it can be to get over a loss.

I found out I was pregnant a little over a week before Thanksgiving in 2006. We had been trying to get pregnant for a few months and when I found out I was overjoyed and terrified. However, I felt like something was off from the beginning. I worried. I worried a lot. People told me not to worry. I didn't listen. I was crampy and felt icky- pretty normal pregnancy stuff. I told my parents I was pregnant and they had passed on the info to friends and family. I was excited and so were they.

I remember it like it happened this morning.

On Thanksgiving morning Peter and I got ready to go to my mom's house. We were about to leave and standing in the kitchen. I don't remember exactly what Peter said to me, but I am sure he was busting my chops about something. I felt a stabbing pain and said, "Ouch! Stop! Are you trying to make me loose the baby." Because while I was worried I didn't really think I would miscarry-hence the joking. I figured I was worrying for nothing...that is what I normally do- worry for no reason. I ran to the bathroom before we headed out the door and saw I was spotting.

Although I knew spotting could occur in normal pregnancy, I was sure at that very moment that things were bad. I felt like someone had turned up the thermostat to a zillion degrees and then down to zero. I wanted to throw up. I didn't want to leave the bathroom or the house but knew I had no choice. I was crying and trying to get calm enough to drive an hour to my mom's to spend a happy day with family.

I love Thanksgiving. I love to eat. I love everything about the holiday. But in that moment that day changed for me forever. I still love Thanksgiving but not a year will go by when I won't think of that day.

I was crying the entire ride to my mom's. I made Peter call her and tell her I was spotting because I couldn't even get the words out. I probably went to the bathroom a zillion times that day because constantly checking to see if you are spotting makes the spotting go away. Or not. People arrived and congratulated me on my pregnancy. I cried. I rested on the couch with my feet in the air. I sat in front of food but don't remember eating a bite. I felt angry and sad and every emotion possible that day- but what I didn't feel was thankful.

I miscarried just a day or two later. I returned to work after a long weekend and in a way felt like only a shadow of myself. I had a miscarriage I whispered. You didn't even know I was pregnant but I was and now I am not. And then I talked to people- a lot- and shared what happened-because that is what made me feel better. I learned that I was not alone. And people said stupid things- but it was OK because they were just trying to help.

I was in a dark place after that first loss. Friends and family tried to pull me out but I knew it would take time. I spent a lot of time on a After Loss message board and then on a TTC after loss board. It isn't for everyone but it helped me tremendously. I will always take time to talk to someone who is dealing with loss because I understand it is a time when you feel absolutely alone even when you are surrounded by people.

I was pregnant with Eliza just two months later.

I didn't even know what blogging was back then- maybe it would have helped in my healing. Regardless, I felt like I needed to write about the experience for myself and maybe for others. I don't think people talk about miscarriage enough. Of course it is a personal choice- but I feel that sharing story might make others feel less alone. It also makes me feel a little bit better-to remember-and to know I will never forget.