Parenting
By Sarah Johnson
Updated: November 19, 2023
Originally Published: December 15, 2017
Trigger Warning: Miscarriage
It’s baffling how the signs can be so clear, yet go unnoticed. I found myself feeling irritable and emotional, anxious and moody, as if I were walking on eggshells. My body was sending me signals: a sore back, bloating, and tenderness in my breasts. Everything pointed to one undeniable truth: I was pregnant.
But it wasn’t until I saw that golf ball-sized clot in the toilet that reality hit hard. The vivid color, a striking red somewhere between scarlet and ruby, is forever etched in my memory. It was thick and tissue-like, slipping away from me with an unsettling ease, accompanied by an overwhelming flow of blood—gallons, it felt like. And then, just like that, it stopped. The pain ceased, the cramping faded, and within hours, the physical evidence of my miscarriage was gone, sunk down the drain.
Yet the emotional pain remains. It clings to me like a balloon charged with static electricity. I move through my days, but I’m not truly okay. I’m functioning, but not thriving.
Describing the loss of a pregnancy is challenging. My body feels unfamiliar, like a purse devoid of change or a cup that has spilled its contents. There’s an unmistakable void within me, and confronting that emptiness is the hardest part. In the week that followed, I turned to food and drinks, almost as if I were trying to fill the space where my hopes once resided.
Emotionally, I’ve been a rollercoaster. I’ve shed tears for the life that will never be, mourning the sibling my daughter will not have, the playmate she will never know. I have felt rage towards my body for betraying me, questioning whether my distance runs—done just hours before the miscarriage—contributed to this outcome. Did my running too far and too fast somehow jostle my body into rejection?
In moments of clarity, I acknowledge that perhaps this loss was a blessing in disguise; it may not have been the right time for another child. Yet, I grapple with guilt for feeling relieved, wondering who feels good after such a personal tragedy. Who laughs or finds solace amidst heartbreak?
I cannot bear to look at myself in the mirror; the sight of my abdomen is haunting. Some nights, I’m tormented by the memory of an empty womb, a blackened ultrasound devoid of life.
I recognize that early miscarriages are tragically common. Statistics indicate that about twenty percent of all pregnancies end like mine—quietly and without ceremony. Logically, I understand that this loss was not my fault, but that doesn’t make it any easier to process. Grief over what could have been weighs heavily on my heart.
While I know that time will ease the pain, today is not that day. Today, I grieve. Today, I cry. Today, I feel the weight of this loss. I sit with it, hoping that tomorrow will be a bit lighter and brighter. For those navigating similar experiences, resources like Healthline provide valuable insights into pregnancy and loss.
If you’re considering expanding your family in the future, you might find it helpful to explore options like the at-home insemination kit mentioned in our other articles. Remember, you are not alone in this journey, and there is strength in sharing your story.