The injections weren’t working. My body wasn’t working.
A week earlier, we had seen several follicles measuring in the “get-me-pregnant” zone on the ultrasound, which meant it was Go Time. Unfortunately, there seemed to be an inverse correlation between the dosing and my libido.
Lying on the exam table, a gel-capped wand gliding over my belly, I asked the nurse about side effects.
“Oh, honey,” she said, in between mumbled follicle measurements, “they’re very common.”
“I’m tired all the time. Constantly bloated. I have no sex drive whatsoever.” As my eyes closed, I felt a cold tear slide down to my ear. “How are we supposed to have a baby like this? …
One of the more challenging aspects of miscarriage–besides the profound pain and sadness–is feeling like it’s not okay to express the emotions of loss. Little to no room is given to women or their partners to talk about miscarriage, let alone to grieve. Miscarriage stubbornly remains one of the last taboos.
“Usually I’m an open book, but I never felt like I could publicly show my grief,” says Rebecca, who miscarried twice and lived in constant fear of losing a third while she was pregnant with her oldest daughter. …
Anxiety and uncertainty are swarming. And as emotions swing on what seems to be a random and recklessly constructed pendulum, our frayed nerves seek solace in the familiar, in old ways of thinking and being. Yet what we had understood as normal no longer exists. It is up to us to re-design and co-create systems and practices that best serve ourselves, our communities, and the planet at large.
Before we can possibly harness our creativity and find the resilience and agility to rise up to new challenges facing us, we must first acknowledge what was lost. …