The silence can be deafening

For days I’ve been debating with myself if I should even blog about this topic as it is so painful and heartbreaking. But when I do post on my blog, this is the very subject I most want to write about.

But as every day that passes, I am realizing that this is a subject that is rarely talked about, even among women. And when it is talked about, it is sometimes in whispers or hushed voices. And by not writing about it and expressing my own feelings, I am just aiding in the taboo nature surrounding early pregnancy loss.

Last week I suffered a miscarriage. This news is going to be a shocker for my family and friends who follow my blog. Many people don’t know I was even pregnant to begin with. I never had a chance to tell anyone because my pregnancy was over so quickly.

Yesterday, I stumbled over a short magazine article that questioned why the the subject of miscarriage is so taboo. Good question. Until I lost my own pregnancy, I didn’t give it much thought. When I was pregnant with darling daughter the word miscarriage made me physically flinch. I experienced bleeding early in my pregnancy and I was convinced that I was going to miscarry at any moment. I lived my life in weeks. I counted down every day. I only relaxed when I reached the 34th week mark. Those nine months were the most stressful weeks of my entire life.

When I miscarried last week, I told myself it was okay. I had prepared myself. I knew something wasn’t right. In the immediate days, I looked at my loss from a practical point of view in order to cope. It was early on in my pregnancy, I told myself. At least I know I can get pregnant. We will get pregnant again. I’m already blessed to have a child.

But those words no longer give me comfort. And being reasonable is no longer practical as my feelings are so overwhelming and can no longer be contained by practicalities. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m mourning. I’m mad at my body because I feel like it betrayed me and continues to do so when I exhibit signs that can be mistaken for early pregnancy symptoms. Right now I’m not necessarily mourning the loss of a child, but the loss of an opportunity to have a child. Despite the fact that I lost my pregnancy so early on doesn’t make it any easier to accept what has happened to me.

And I have also found that this is the most lonely and isolating experience I have ever gone through in my life. Most women I know didn’t announce their pregnancy until after they pass the magic 12th week. Heck, when I was pregnant with darling daughter, I didn't officially announce my pregnancy to most of my co-workers until the 20th week. (However, I'm sure they already had an idea I was in the family way because I was getting bigger). Most miscarriages happen in the first trimester. So if a woman hasn’t told her friends and family that she is pregnant before the 12th week and if she happens to lose her pregnancy, she’ll likely be suffering in silence. And let me tell you, the silence surrounding pregnancy loss is deafening.

However, telling people that you are no longer pregnant is horrible and painful, too. My heart broke when I told my mother the bad news.

Although there are conflicting statistics, it is believed one in five pregnancies will end in miscarriage. While the odds are on a woman’s side that she will have a baby at the end of her pregnancy, it doesn’t always end like that. And if you think about the frequency of pregnancy loss, it is quite ironic that in our society we don’t talk more about it.

But at the same time, why would we want to talk about it? It is a depressing and heart wrenching subject. No newly pregnant woman wants to think that she may miscarry. It is a catch 22. By not talking about it, we just feed into the taboo and those who suffer a loss may feel like they have no other choice other to grieve in silence.

This grief thing is weird. Dear husband and my friends have been so supportive through this experience. However, even though I do talk about it, and it is therapeutic to talk about it, I feel very alone. Perhaps this feeling relates to the fact that this happened to me -- my body -- and that I had no control over the outcome.

I am not writing this post to garner sympathy or to add to the pity party that I’ve been hosting for myself in recent days. My intent isn’t to make people feel uncomfortable or awkward. By writing about this, I hope to create awareness surrounding pregnancy loss and to help to break the silence. By talking about it, I hope women who are going through this will take comfort that they aren’t alone.