On the road to getting answers and recovery

Today is a good day. I live for good days. And who doesn't? But lately, some of my days haven't been so good.

In October, I blogged about having a miscarriage and how I found the silence to be deafening. Two months ago today, I suffered a second miscarriage. This time I was further along. Sadly, what I experience was a missed miscarriage. I didn't realize I had lost the baby until I went for a dating ultrasound.

Quite simply, the last two months have been horrible. I thought I paid my dues in October when I miscarried the first time. Apparently not.

I'm the type of person who demands answers. For 10 years I was a journalist whose job description was to get answers for my readers on issues that were important to them. And I think I did a damn good job in that regard. Unfortunately, I have gotten no answers as to why I have suffered two early miscarriages. My family doctor says she can give me a list longer than her arm as to why miscarriages happen, but she can't give me a specific reason why this has happened to me.

That isn't good enough. I want to know. I need to know. The responses of "these things happen, it's bad luck, there was something wrong with the baby" simply infuriate me. I don't want to hear that crap or feel the sympathetic but awkward gazes from my doctor who is unable to give a specific reason why I've gone through not only once, but twice. I want answers.

Hopefully I will be getting answers soon. Today I felt a load lifted off my shoulders when I got a letter in the mail confirming my appointment to a fertility clinic. When I was holding that piece of paper in my hands today, I felt like I've turned a corner in my recovery. Although I've been told that 40 per cent of couples who suffer from some sort of infertility won't get answers as to why they are experiencing problems (and I've got a gut feeling I'll be put in that category), 60 per cent do get some sort of answer. And right at this moment, I just want an answer. I just want to know why. Because the not knowing may be one of the worst part of this whole experience. Was it something I ate? Was it something I did? Did I exercise too much? Did I worry to much? Is it low progesterone? Or do I have some undiagnosed condition? And the unanswered questions go on and on.

And getting answers is part of my recovery. Yesterday, a friend of mine told me she was expecting. Although I did experience a twinge of sadness for myself, I did feel true happiness for her. I didn't burst into tears or feel like I've been punched in the gut, which usually happens when I hear pregnancy news. And that made me happy for both me and her. I consider my reaction to her wonderful news as a positive sign that I'm on the road to recovery. And while it is still early days, I realize that I've got a long way to go in coming to terms with my losses.

And if I don't get answers, then I'll have to live with that. And maybe I can take some comfort knowing that I've done everything I possibly can in my pursuit to get answers.

In some respects when it comes to miscarriages and pregnancy loss, especially when it comes to the medical community, I could write a novel. But in some respects, I can't write about his subject. The pain is too much. The National Post published this story describing the lonely pain of pregnancy loss. It is an excellent read and the brave and courageous women who were interviewed for this story sum up my feelings. Pregnancy loss is a subject that is often ignored, which is a tragedy since it happens so often. And by talking about it, hopefully the taboo around this subject can be eliminated.