Over the last few days when I’ve actually had to say aloud that I’m miscarrying again, it’s been surreal. I am now a woman who not only has experienced a miscarriage, but I will have suffered multiple miscarriages.
It feels so different than a few months ago. I felt complete devastation. I hurt everywhere. My heart was in pieces. I cried spontaneously.
Something that a few people have said to me was that it should be easier this time because I kind of know what to expect, right? I agreed. I do know what to expect on some level, but does that make it easier?
I hear the disappointment in people’s voices. I hear the silent judgment – not just in others but in myself: don’t put so much pressure on yourself, just let it happen, maybe you should go see a specialist, there’s always other ways you can try to get pregnant, are there tests you can do?
The specialist I did go to see lacked anything that resembled a modicum of compassion; but I took some comfort in that. He wasn’t jumping to any conclusions as to what might be wrong with me or my body. He bottom-lined it to the whatever percent it is that pregnancies can be successful after the first trimester.
I’m just not feeling much of anything right now. LG and I are preparing for it to happen tomorrow. I told him how I want to set up the tub since that’s where I ended up last time anyways. We know what we want to Netflix to pass the time. We have food in the fridge for him to sustain himself. He’ll make me mashed potatoes – because that’s what I want and also because it’s boring and won’t upset my stomach. I called my aunt ahead of time to tell her what was going on and to ask her to make the ginger fried rice to help my body heal afterwards.
I’m just waiting for my heart to catch up. It still hasn’t really sunk in yet.
But God has bigger plans. He knows what we need. In his time.