Disclaimer: today’s post is unfiltered. I try to keep things tactful, upbeat and relatable to as many people as possible. But today I just want to be open. Today I’m experiencing my third miscarriage- and it sucks -to say the least.
Apparently about 50% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, which means a lot of people can relate: women who have wanted a baby, women who were terrified to learn they were pregnant (me the first time around 10 year ago), perhaps you had an abortion and felt great pain, fear or loss through that. Then there are you men who may have been in similar boats in terms of facing fatherhood. It is definitely different -not experiencing all these changes in your body- but losing a child pre-term is something a lot of us have experienced, so today I am speaking to loss, and for me it is in this way, unapologetically indiscreet.
For those of you who know this pain, my heart is with you: broken, open, raw and wrapped around you. In the past month I have been touched by the connection I’ve experienced and witnessed with my classmates who have shared very real heartbreak of various kinds. In the process I realized I put a lot of pressure on myself to keep things looking pristine and perfect- exactly what I loathed as an adolescent and preteen. I put a lot of pressure on myself to stay positive and keep things upbeat. Generally I am really happy, but that’s not the case in this moment.
Today I’m grateful for a blue sunny sky out my window, for my cuddly dog, Naya, who patiently waited for me to finish cleaning my yoga mat with my salty tears before comforting me with her compassionate kisses and cuddles. I’m grateful for the surprise love note my husband left for me on our laptop, for salad, dark chocolate and fruit. For the chance to be self aware enough that I notice the subtle changes in my body. And I’m grateful to know that although today is hard and I feel pretty shitty, there are many days behind and hopefully ahead full of joy and feeling better -physically and emotionally.
So when you have a day, a week, a month or season of life that you feel shitty, I’m sorry. It’s okay to own it. I hope you’ll still find some things to be grateful for and remember not every day is just like today.
Today I send you my love and hope for a happier tomorrow.
3 thoughts on “Allowing Time to Grieve”
I’m so sorry for your loss! This is so beautifully written though, that you’re able to think of the things that you are grateful for.
Thank you so much for your sweet word Johanna.
I love you Dawn! Im so sorry! Just like your name, there is always a new dawn after a dark night. I hope a bright new dawn greets you soon! Keep the faith! Love you!