Miscarriages, with no doubt, can be one of the most painful experiences that a woman can be burdened with. I say woman because I am not here to speak for men. I suppose I’m not even here to speak for those that identify as women either. I am here to speak for myself. I am here to tell you about my miscarriage.
Prior to experiencing one myself, I never really processed how taboo it was to openly discuss miscarriages and the level of shame associated with the act of doing so. In the name of being aware of my brand and my image, I was advised numerous times to steer clear of publicizing this experience. But to be quite frank, I don’t give a f-ck. The internalized misogyny that weaves its way through the responses to the narratives of women who go through these experiences, hijack these narratives and leave those that try to speak up, voiceless. I intend to speak my truth, and be as real as one can possibly be.
In addition to this, as a young and unmarried woman that identifies with the South Asian community, with a partner of another race, I know the inherent anti-Black racism that infiltrates my community will start bubbling to the surface. There will be both people that I could care less about, and people that I hold (or held) the highest regard that may either have a plethora of negative things to say to and/or about me, or want to put me on a stake. And to this I say, I still don’t care. This is a very real thing that happened to me. What this means is that I am going to speak on it, and I am going to speak on it all I want.
This may come as a surprise to some of you as not many knew that I was pregnant to begin with. To be entirely honest with you, I myself did not know that I was pregnant until I was an entire trimester into my pregnancy. Just a few weeks ago, my partner and I felt that we were at the point in our pregnancy where we felt comfortable sharing the news with our family and friends. To say that I definitely caught heat from my mother when I told her would be an understatement. I suppose she believed I was too young to have a child because she had the grandest dreams for my future. However, I know I would have been a great mother, I know I will be a great mother. I can say that so confidently and comfortably that it even baffles me.
Taking into consideration that this pregnancy wasn’t planned (at all), I wouldn’t say that I was entirely prepared for what would have been an entirely new chapter of my life. But see, that’s the thing about motherhood; you put your big girl pants on and you become prepared. You do anything, by any means necessary, to ensure that your child is safe, loved, protected and provided for (if you decide to keep it that is – & that is entirely up to you). Though my partner and I were doubted, we did not doubt ourselves. That is ultimately all that mattered. We were doing this, and we would be fine.
I’ve told every man I’ve dated that I did not want children, whatsoever. What didn’t occur to me until mere moments into being told I was pregnant was the following: I wanted to experience the gift of bearing a child; I just did not want to carry theirs. I would love to say that I am deeply apologetic for feeling that way, but I am not. What I can say is that I am deeply sympathetic to the pain this may cause the men I’ve loved and the men who have loved me upon reading this. The love I felt for the child I was carrying superseded any other emotion I’ve felt for anyone, in my life. I had never been in love like that before. I loved my baby and was exhilarated to meet them.
I was at work when I realized something was wrong. I was seeing a light pink discharge whenever I used the restroom. I started experiencing immense cramping and left right away. My partner & I thought that perhaps if I had some food that it would help me feel a little better. As I was seated at our table, I felt a stabbing pain in my abdominal area. I knew immediately what was happening. I felt like I was sinking into my seat and I have never felt heartbreak like that before in my life. My whole world was crumbling around me. I went to the restroom to check up on myself and couldn’t move on my own within seconds. I was bleeding out.
I remember being in Taylor’s car and crying hysterically. I remember him keeping calm and telling me everything was going to be as it was supposed to be but that we would be okay regardless of the outcome. I remember him saying this with the steadiest voice. What he didn’t realize is that I felt how clammy his hands were and the sweat on his brow and the tears welling up in his eyes. I remember talking to my baby and begging them to stay in me. I was calling on every God I have ever heard of. My mind was a broken record, a video that kept rewinding and replaying the moment I was told I was pregnant – everything I’ve ever lost came rushing back to me in abundance and with love & light; fast-forwarding to the present where I felt like I’d lost a happiness I would never experience. Heart break was given a new feeling and meaning. I would have done anything to keep this baby. Looking back now, I would still do anything.
I came home from the ER that day devastated, in mounds of pain and highly nauseated. I was having a hard time keeping my food down, sleeping, and moving I could not function. I am so deeply appreciative of my partner, my mother and my sisters for being so present and ensuring that I was keeping as well as possible. Within a few days I was able to start eating and moving about. I bled for quite a few weeks and the cramps stuck around for that duration and a little while after.
I am sharing this to give myself closure, to get this off my chest, to reach out to whomever is reading this that has or knows someone that has miscarried, and to those of you who fortunately have not…just so you know, this is a real thing that happens to thousands of women.
I was and am still dealing with the emotional aspect of this experience. Many hours of my days have been spent pondering the what-ifs, and where I went wrong. I know that this isn’t my fault, and that this happens to women and very often…but I can’t help but feel like I let my partner down. There were people that I thought would soothe this wound that cut me deeper by kicking me when I was down. And there are people who I thought were just acquaintances that made themselves so readily available to me. Every kind of issue surfaced – body image, trust, and so on and so forth. I needed to check myself, big time. And I have to keep checking myself steady, so I can keep my head up.
It’s a process, as is life. I don’t know if I am naïve for seeking to find the good in this…I mean, how good can a miscarriage be? Not so good. But I can definitely say that I have grown as a person as a result. I am generally someone that is in touch with myself. But, as a result of this unfortunate event, I have become so much more self-aware. I mean, I’m probably just as self-conscious as I am self-aware, but you can’t have it all. Right? Time heals all, or so they say. I have become so in tune with my emotional, mental and physical state. For this, I am grateful. I know why I am feeling what I am feeling, what caused it, when my body is off, what I need to feel better, etc. It is amazing to be at that place. I also strongly feel that my level of communication has improved incalculably. I say things very deliberately now, and it feels good to know that I am saying what I feel and am feeling what I am saying.
I don’t want to hear that it’s okay, I’ll be alright and everything in between to give myself the illusion that I feel or will feel better. I am allowed to feel. I am allowed to experience this wholly. I just want to know that those that have my back really do have my back. I want to be able to talk about this when I feel the need to. I want to find release but also want to be able to embrace my life.
I’ve decided that I will be taking control of my physical well being in ways that I have never done before. I will do right by my body because it is the only one that I have. I will jump headfirst into everything that I do. I will accomplish, achieve, and be an outstanding woman, by my own standards. I will connect with the universe in ways I have never before. I will radiate a positive light in the lives of whomever I come into contact with. I will be the best version of me. It will always be me against me, never them. I will shine. I will do this for myself and for my future baby. I will try again. When I am ready. But, I will try again.
I’m not completely okay, I’m not sure if I will be any time soon. I know I won’t be the same person after this. I’ve evolved and reached another stage in my life. I won’t live it any less though. I’ve never been a passive woman. If there is a conclusion that I have reached in all of this, it is that nothing makes you more or less of a woman. There is no marker to say that you must be able to carry a child to play your role as a woman. There is no role. Things will happen as they will and it is our God given right to experience them in any which way we feel.
Until next time…peace, love & good vibes only,
J.
