After two weeks of soul-searching, uncontrollable tears, rage, nonstop prayers and a host of millions of emotions it was time, time to share our story. Today I hit the publish button on my first blog post and shared our story on Facebook for the entire world to see. I felt incredibly vulnerable in that moment. As soon as I saw the little orange notification on WordPress signifying the post was live, I stepped away to make another cup of coffee. In that moment while the Keurig made its whirring sound and I waited for my breakfast blend, I questioned myself. Had I done the right thing? What would people think? Would friends or family who didn’t hear the story from me directly be upset? Was I in danger of work colleagues walking on eggshells around me now? Maybe this was a bad idea. I needed a walk. Continue reading “Day 14: Vulnerable”
I woke up this morning feeling normal. I didn’t cry, which I’m pretty sure is the first time that has happened since my miscarriage. I wasn’t sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop or waiting for things to take a turn for the worse. I honestly felt calm, collected and like an actual human being.
At first this worried me. Continue reading “Day 11: Normal”
52-weeks ago I shared my intention for 2016 by posting the below on Instagram. Instead of making a New Year’s resolution, I adopted a word to guide my year. I chose the word balance for 2016 because I tended to be the type of person who had tunnel vision. If I was going to be a good wife, I thought I had to focus on that 100%. If I was going to have a successful career, I felt that I needed to work 85-hours a week. I was wavering on whether or not I wanted to be a mom because I had no idea how to do that. I had a hard time balancing all of the things that were important in my life, so I forced myself to figure that out. If I was grading myself for my performance in 2016, I earned a solid B.
2016 was a hell of a year. It’s a year that rocked me to my core. But in the end it deepened my friendships, strengthened my marriage and solidified my faith.
I’m sharing my story because when I experienced this heartache my first emotion was a sense of feeling empty and very alone. I never anticipated things turning out this way and I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I experienced what is medically referred to as a “missed miscarriage” or a “silent miscarriage” during the 11th week of my pregnancy. It means that the baby passed before I had any symptoms of a miscarriage.
I’m not sharing my story for sympathy or to hear words that should make me feel better. I want other people in similar situations to have a place to turn without having to feel gun-shy or worried about bringing up their story. This wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and neither were my feelings. Continue reading “The Silent Struggle”