A Sisterhood of Suffering
When I miscarried, I was devastated. But I soon learned there were many more out there like me.
The little panel flashed the word "pregnant" at me, and my hand jerked in surprise. The damning wand fell right into the toilet. This was not part of the plan. I am 28 and teach high school for a living; "planning" and "control" are the two words that hold my world together. Don't get me wrong; I love kids. About 150 pass through my classroom every year, and I love each of them in a poignant, singular way. But the idea of a child of my own was an abstraction that I kept in the firm future. The present now held fear.
My husband was excited; he is already a father to a precocious 9-year-old boy, so his plan was different from mine from the start. Though I understand teenagers, 9 is an age that thoroughly confuses me. The word "infant" isn't even fathomable. But as the days passed, I started seeing women with ripe bellies everywhere I went, women I'd never noticed before. I started seeing myself.
So I did what's required. I took my vitamins, avoided fast food, napped whenever possible. I drove to the bookstore and filled myself with information. But I didn't tell anyone. I had heard the old wisdom of waiting three months "just in case."
Then "just in case" happened. Only days after the shock of the little digital screen, hope and wonder had set into my life. I was a part of something bigger; I was going to be great at it. But sometimes aspiration isn't enough. I woke up one morning, and I felt empty. A totally different fear took hold of me. I did not want to lose this piece of life we had started. I made an appointment for a blood test.
The call came on my cell phone in between classes. The doctor said the test had indicated an "unviable pregnancy" and yet again my hand jerked. I thanked the apathetic messenger, trying to hold on to my reaction as my students filtered through the door of my classroom. I ignored the pointed questions about my thinly veiled despair. A sluggish 90 minutes later, they drifted out, looking at me with worry. It was a Friday. I sat at my desk behind the safety of a locked door, and I cried. And cried. There was no control to this crying. Logically, I knew the miscarriage was not my fault, but logic doesn't always rule. My body had failed me.
I spent the weekend in a haze of plummeting hormones and Kleenex, and I remembered a friend of a friend who had mentioned her miscarriage at a baby shower. I called this person I barely knew to talk to her about something I did not want to share. Her understanding was seamless. She never said "things happen for a reason." She did tell me how long the crying would last, and everything that follows a miscarriage. The crying slowed.
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Member Comments
Posted By: Fleg @ 04/16/2008 11:36:16 AM
Comment: Dear Carla and sisterhood,
I read your story and cried. I too belong to the invisible and silent sister hood of suffering. I agree that NO ONE talks about the possiblility of miscarrying until after it happens. It was over 10 years ago but it seems like yesterday. But for me, I had had a beautiful baby girl exactly when I wanted her. Then within a year I was pregnant again and lost the baby cruelly at 5 months of pregnancy. I will never forget the imagine of my dead baby. She was so beautiful. Then the doctor said, it was unexplainable and that there was no reason not to try again. After another year I tried again and got pregnant. After the first doctors visit all was well. She said to come back 3 weeks later. At that time we did an ultrasound and I knew when I looked at the screen that there was no heartbeat any more.It was 3 months this time. I will never forget the look on my doctor's face and how hard it was for her to tell me what I already knew. I told her- This is the last time you will see me pregnant and it was. No one could ever explain why a healthy young woman could have miscarriages. Only after this happened did I realize how expansive our sisterhood of suffering really was. I agree that it is NOT talked about at the doctor's office or in magazines etc. It is something that unfortunately you find about about the hard way.
I also do not understand comments (like my mohter's) that God does things for a reason, it is God's will etc... How could God want me to suffer like this? Why?
Then I always have to answer the question - when are you going to give your daughter a sibling? Or how come you only had one? People can be so insensitive if they don't understand.
Thank you very much for having the courage and strength to write your article. I see by the other comments that we are not alone and we all understand each other. After all these years, I am still crying as I write these words......
Posted By: boppymommy @ 04/14/2008 8:10:25 PM
Comment: I, too, had multiple miscarriages. I told people at work for the very reason a previous poster stated: I wanted people to understand why I was crying at the drop of a hat and not my usual self. What I found was that there was a "sisterhood of suffering.: I called it the miscarriage club for lack of better term. In this club I found understanding, caring and hugs. No trite explanations just the right kind of help that I needed. So, Carla, thank you for writing such a great piece about a subject that is not spoken about nearly enough in our society.
Posted By: amandadehaven @ 04/08/2008 5:40:59 PM
Comment: I wish my husband had you to talk to. He is taking our three losses VERY hard.