What is a topic you’ve wanted to write about, but have been too scared?
Last summer, I had a miscarriage. I tried twice to write about the experience. The first time I tried to write about it, I had to stop about two hundred words in.
The second time, I was just too scared to post it. It still felt raw, personal. I knew that if anyone said anything negative, anything at all, I would be really hurt, so I avoided writing about it because I was scared that someone’s offhand comment would hurt me.
I didn’t know I was pregnant when I had a miscarriage. I wasn’t trying to get pregnant, so I wasn’t looking out for any of the signs, or taking pregnancy tests. It was a stressful, busy time.
My husband had broken his ankle that April, and two months later, my period was the last thing on my mind. I was thinking about the new job I was transitioning into, and my husband learning to walk again. I wasn’t thinking about the number of days since I was last bleeding.
When it happened, I was coming back from having lunch, and the best way I can think of to describe it was like a “whoosh” – lots of blood and tissue all at once. I ran to the bathroom at work (most miscarriages happen at work, apparently)there was a lot of blood and mess. My pants and underwear were ruined, and I was in a bathroom stall alone, going through what billions of women have gone through.
I sat in there for a while, bewildered. To find out all at once that I was pregnant and that I had a miscarriage was a lot to absorb. I kept thinking “Is this a miscarriage? Really?” But the blood and chunks of tissue were hard to ignore. I called my husband. I sat there. I cleaned myself up.
Then I went to the Gap (closest store to work) and bought underwear and jeans.
After you’ve had a miscarriage is the worst time to try on jeans. Of course, after I tried them on, I realized that I couldn’t actually put any jeans I’ve tried on back – fortunately they fit – and I bought them along with new underwear.
Then I went back to work at my office job. Looking back on it. I think that I should have taken the rest of the day off.
That weekend, I sat down and painted. I’m not a painter, not really, but I enjoy it. I painted a picture of my husband and I as chibi superheros, taking off into a blue blue sky.
I wasn’t trying to get pregnant when I had the miscarriage, and looking back on it, I know it wasn’t the good time. One of my dear friends told me that my body knew that it wasn’t the right time. Another friend told me that when it was the right time, it would happen. My mother told me that it was totally natural. This was all comforting, but it was the action of creating that painting that soothed me the most.
One of my friends looked at my painting and told me that someday, I’ll add a third little superhero. Thinking of that day made me feel hopeful. I look forward to meeting that person, to making them welcome, to introducing them to this world I love so much.