What Having a Miscarriage Has Taught Me

I strongly believe that every experience in life teaches us something.  Whether it is a negative or positive experience we learn something about ourselves, the world around us, or the people around us.  The larger the scope of feeling attached to the experience, the more I tend to learn.  While having a miscarriage is something that will always haunt me, so to speak, the experience caused me to dig deep within myself, to reflect, to learn.  While I still can't help but think back and wish it had never happened, I did learn from the experience.

My most immediate take-away was: let go of the worry for things you can't control.  I've mentioned this before.  I can be a bit of a worrier and tend to try to control things I can't.  When I was pregnant with Carter I spent the first 8 weeks constantly worried about a miscarriage.  The worry slowly dissipated over the next 5 weeks until the second trimester commenced with me feeling fairly calm.  I again worried about a miscarriage the second time around, but all that worry did me no good.  The inevitable happened regardless of my worry and the worry didn't make that any less painful.  The worry only kept me from being fully happy.  I have gotten much better about releasing the worry, I'm not there yet and probably never will be, but I'm doing better.

The experience also reminded me to appreciate all the little things.  Before I found out we'd had a miscarriage I noticed the pregnancy symptoms I'd been feeling had subsided.  Once the nausea, exhaustion, and migraines were gone, I was even more worried than I already was.  If I'm lucky enough to become pregnant again I will appreciate those unpleasant symptoms knowing they are constant reminders that everything is okay.  It also made me understand with an even deeper appreciation how precious Carter is.  When I look at him I am reminded what a miracle he really is.  The weekend after we lost the baby I was listening to the CD All the Little Lights by Passenger when the song, Life's for the Living came on and I heard the line "Don't cry for the lost.  Smile for the living." and it really struck me.  Being with Carter was the only thing that had made me feel whole the entire week.  For that reason, the song really spoke to me.  It reminded me to focus on Carter, not the baby we had lost.  At times I feel really down about losing the baby I've come to think of as Lily (I had a dream where the baby was named Lily and it gives me comfort for the baby to have a name) so I'll listen to Life's for the Living and it makes me feel hopeful.  The song isn't cheerful but it's also not depressing.  It's that perfect in between that I need in those moments.

Carter, our little miracle.

I also learned to be more considerate and think before I speak.  There have been so many moments when people who know what happened just don't think and say something that takes my breath away it hurts so much.  A friend at work said, "You'll understand when you have another kid."  Talk about a dagger to the heart. At a wedding I was in someone said, "Now which of you bridesmaids is pregnant?"  Then she paused, looked at me, said "Oh that's right, sorry", and patted me on the back.  I know it was an accident, but on an emotional day it was even more painful than it would have been normally.  People who don't know what happened carelessly say things either meaning to spark a conversation or to be funny.  I understand they are well meaning, but it still hurts.  No one but me can know how much it hurts when they jokingly ask me if I'm pregnant when I turn down a beer and I have to respond with "no", knowing that I should still be pregnant, calculating in my head how many weeks along we'd be if things had gone as planned.  I've always been a bit guarded with sharing information about pregnancy and typically don't unless asked.  I have friends who struggled to get pregnant.  I watched what I said in front of them because I didn't want to cause them pain.  Now I'm careful about asking others if they have plans to have more children because I don't know what they've been through and I don't want a painful memory to be brought to mind due to my comment.  For me it has gotten better with time.  The first month each absentminded comment was enough to bring tears to my eyes.  The next month it was just an ache in my chest.  Now it is sometimes an ache in my chest and other times my heart just skips a beat.  I'm looking forward for the time when comments no longer hurt, but I don't expect it to happen soon.  So just in case someone else is experiencing the same thing, I don't ask questions or make comments about when they will have a baby or another baby or what their plans are for children because why cause someone to feel pain or be reminded of the hurt if I don't have to?

I'm thankful that I have been able to learn from this experience.  Taking away those lessons makes it easier to accept the loss.  I take it as a moment meant to teach me about life.  I know that if I do experience pregnancy again I will appreciate it even more than I did with Carter and I loved being pregnant with him.  There was never a moment when I wished I wasn't pregnant or I wished he could just be born already.  I understood what a gift it was to be pregnant and have no complications and I understand that even more now.  Maybe my experience can help others who have had similar experiences, teach those who haven't, or even just make it more acceptable to talk about such a taboo topic.  Sometimes silence is the worst thing you can say.  Simply acknowledging there was a loss is enough.  

How could I not want to do this all over again?