The Fear of Giving Up on Future Pregnancies
I should be 6 months pregnant now. I should be at the point where I am visibly pregnant and getting uncomfortable.
I should be struggling to reach my shoelaces and trying to find a way to cool off. But I am not. I am in my normal clothes, at my normal size, and it is sometimes more than I want to deal with.
For the most part, I got through this miscarriage much easier than the last one. I have two living children. I am happy in my life and I know what it is like to have a living child. But I still feel incredible sadness at the thought that I am approaching my due date and I will not have another baby joining this world. I saw this baby as my last. I’ve always wanted three children, and this was my chance.
To me, this felt like the universe was answering my wishes and was giving me the third child I longed for. Because you see, my husband and I were not, and are not, on the same page when it comes to the third child topic. I desperately want to complete my family by having a third living child, and he feels like we are done.
Getting pregnant unexpectedly felt like it was a sign, like something else was dictating the direction of my life. And the loss felt like that chance was ripped away from me. The one chance I had left.
The real sadness goes beyond the actual miscarriage. It goes into the fact that I am in a perpetual state of fear that I will never have the third child. Or that I will be able to convince my husband to try again, and to have another loss. At this point, 50% of my pregnancies have ended in loss. I don’t know if I can take another loss, and what right do I have to chance it again when I have two wonderful children at home? Why can’t I feel satisfied by the two I have. What is driving me to want to have another so badly?
I can’t answer these questions. I can’t even make a real decision about whether or not to pursue this third baby any further than I have. All I can really do right now is try to live the life I have and work towards either being ok with not having a third, or figuring out a way to make it work to try again. In my heart, I see this third baby as a part of my life forever.
The loss isn’t going to go away, and the hurt that accompanies the loss will always be there too.
I will always feel a longing when I see a pregnant woman, or when I see a brand new baby. I still want that. I want to do it all over one more time, but I have no idea of this will ever happen.
The thing with miscarriage that people don’t talk about very much is that they happen so privately that publicly grieving is not the norm. I went back to work the day after the miscarriage started and I had to turn it all back on and pretend I was fine. I was so early along that no one knew, and I didn’t really want to have to tell people I was pregnant but I was having a miscarriage now.
I know that for me, this is incredibly sad, but to people around me, there is little understanding about why I would be upset at all. I mean, I have two kids, and this loss was early, so what’s the big deal?
This baby was loved, if only be me, and wanted. I am terrified that this was my last chance and now I will live the rest of my life wishing that things had gone differently. I hate being in this place. I hate feeling the sadness and the frustration and the desperation. But mostly I hate that I am getting closer and closer to the date when I should be bringing home a baby and instead I will be the only one thinking of them, alone in my loss.