I had a miscarriage two years ago.
Two years ago, today.
It’s this very common, very heartbreaking thing that happens to many women, and couples, and yet no one really seems to talk about it. Kind of like funerals or natural disasters – they happen and then no one really mentions it again.
Only the people who were closest to it continue to feel its effects.
I work in a place where miscarriage is not the worst thing that could happen. And so, I’m torn. Torn between reminding myself to be thankful. Reminding myself to count my blessings. Reminding myself that it can always be worse. Torn between all of that, and just letting myself feel. Because even though my brain knows all of that, my heart still wonders what life would’ve been like if that pregnancy had been viable. If that baby was here now.
If the miscarriage never happened.
This is a picture of my rainbow baby, Chloe, taken this morning. She is so many wonderful things. While I waited anxiously for her to arrive, her big sister kept me busy and well stocked in snuggles and love. On the days where I wanted to lay in bed all day and wallow, I made peanut butter sandwiches and coloured Peppa Pig pictures, instead.
We have two daughters. They’re the best. There is nothing more I could ask for, honestly.
So is it wrong to think about the baby in between?
Feel it. Think about it. Talk about it.
Lean on your people.
Especially on the ‘reminder’ days.