Wednesday, July 20, 2016

When I Talk About My Miscarriage

A list of some things that happened when I've talked about my miscarriage:

A female relative sends a message to me about her miscarriage.

Another female relative sends a message about her miscarriage.

Another female relative sends me a message about her miscarriage.

A colleague tells me about her miscarriages.  

A colleague tells me about his friend's stillbirth.

An aunt tells me about her miscarriage.  

Another aunt tells me about her miscarriage, but also her stillbirth.

A colleague and his wife take me to lunch to share the story of their son's stillbirth.

A friend tells me about her relative who had a miscarriage.

My nurse at my kidney doctor's office cries with me while telling me about her miscarriage.

The same colleague and his wife share with me everything they went through following their son's death.  

My kidney doctor tells me about his and his wife's miscarriage. 

The neighbor with whom I started walking to the commuter train in the morning tells me that he and his wife suffered miscarriage.  

A colleague tells me about her miscarriage.

The security guard at my office tells me about her miscarriage.




I've had a heart-to-heart connection with all of the people that I've listed above. We use words when we talk about our miscarriages, but there's also a silent communication that isn't easily translated into traditional sentence structure. There's a subtle nod, a sharpened look, a shift in the physical space between us.  There is a transfer of information and emotion.  

There is an understanding that we truly see each other. We see the layer of each other that holds our daydreams of decorated nurseries, and our nightmares.  We see the layer that keeps those first ultrasound images of a buzzing embryo, and the images of a still dark space.  We see the rounded swollen tummy that was once there, and the empty uterus the day after.  We see those initial feelings of pregnancy bliss...and then the longing, hopelessness, fear, and grief that seems to last much longer than expected.  

When I talk about my miscarriage with other people, I realize that I'm not the only one. 

When I talk about my miscarriage, I also become free.