Confessions

I have confessions to make about my miscarriage.

When I got pregnant, the only regret that I had was that I wasn’t a healthier weight, and more in shape. I remember vocalizing this. And I confess that there is a part of me that wonders if someone heard my lament, and decided to give me that chance to lose weight by taking away my baby.

I confess that I wonder if I am too negative, and that I don’t treat others with enough positivity. I have wondered if that negativity came back around and was a cause for my miscarriage.

I confess that I feel guilty that my body couldn’t support my baby.

I confess that I wonder if my baby could feel the love that I had for him. I confess that I wonder if he felt pain when my body rejected him.

I confess that I feel immensely guilty for flushing my baby down the toilet when I miscarried him. Like a fish. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to save the “products of conception” as people so eloquently put it, because I couldn’t bear the thought of keeping my baby in the refrigerator like a science project.

I confess that I wish I’d have been able to look at my baby when I miscarried him for longer. I couldn’t stand to look.

I confess that sometimes I feel like I hurt worse than anyone else that’s suffered this kind of loss. I know that I don’t, but sometimes I feel like I do.

I confess that I worry that I won’t be as excited the next time I get pregnant.

I confess that I get irritated with pregnant women who complain about how horrible being pregnant is. You think that throwing up, swollen feet, sleepless nights are bad? Try seeing your baby’s heartbeat, and then three days later, suffering horrible cramps, accompanied by huge clots of blood and tissue, and then wiping when you go to the bathroom only to find the embryo on your toilet paper. Nausea and weight gain doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?

I confess that I feel a twinge of jealousy every time I see a pregnant woman. Every. Single. Time.

I confess that I don’t want advice, words of wisdom, or any of that shit from my friends who are pregnant, have been pregnant without complications, or have new babies. I don’t want to hear any of that crap from women who have not been in my shoes before. If you have not ever lost a child, or had a miscarriage, then don’t tell me “Everything happens for a reason,” or “It will happen when it’s meant to happen,” or, “God doesn’t make mistakes”. I understand that your intentions are good, but honestly, just keep it to yourself.

I confess that I worry if I am physically able to carry a healthy baby to term, even though I’ve only suffered one miscarriage, and really have no reason to worry that.

I confess that I miss you every single day. Every day. You were only with me for a few weeks, but I loved you just as much as if you had been there the whole nine months.