What My Miscarriage Taught Me About Love

A few months ago, my husband and I finally agreed that it was time that we expanded our little family. Lo and behold, I was expecting the following month.

I was so excited! Overjoyed! Ecstatic! It happened so easily and quickly and we were on cloud nine. Not a thought in the world that anything could go wrong. Well, maybe just a little. There’s always an air of caution when pregnant. I mean, you figure everything is going to go well, but there’s that part of you that’s holding its breath. But all in all, I was already extremely content and anxious to meet my new addition. 

That baby was real and was a gift that was taken away from me too soon.

Immediately, I went about my "expectant mom" routine: I started taking my prenatals and I started to read What to Expect When You're Expecting again. Honestly, being a parent doesn’t make you a pregnancy pro. I had a lot of refreshing to do. I was just six weeks in but I had purchased newborn clothes and even told my employer I was expecting. I regretted that after I did it. I reminded myself that the rule, clearly, is to wait until you’re at least two months pregnant, in the event of a miscarriage or other complications. Thinking about the fact that I had told my employer the news and the possibility of any complications haunted me until the end of that week.

And then, suddenly, I was bleeding.

I knew that the growing life inside me was gone, but I was holding on to the possibility of a miracle. When I received the confirmation of the miscarriage at the hospital, the feeling of helplessness and anger grew. I began grieving the baby even though, at times, I felt like I shouldn't, because I did not physically meet him or her. But, that baby was real and was a gift that was taken away from me too soon.

Recommended Reading: Motherhood—My Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Identity Crisis

Everyone tells you about the possibility of something going wrong, but no one really tells you how to deal with it if it does.

This loss brought a deeper meaning, a deeper love and appreciation for my son, for my husband, for my family.

This experience opened my eyes to things I did not consider and I realized a few things about our ability to bring life into this earth. When the doctor was delivering the news about the miscarriage, she informed that this was common. Many women miscarry and that it was my body’s way of taking care of itself. They occur in 15 to 20 percent of all diagnosed pregnancies, she said. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it. She went on to say that she is still surprised that any of us are even born because the odds of the right egg teaming up with the right sperm to bring forth a healthy human being are astronomical.

I learned that pregnancy is not a guarantee, but a blessing.

That being said, I wondered: had I ever truly appreciated the fact that I had previously given birth to a healthy baby boy? Did I value the fact that I was alive and well? We like to think that we do, but do we really see the value in the people who surround us and bring us joy every day? I thought I did, but this loss brought a deeper meaning, a deeper love and appreciation for my son, for my husband, for my family and the people in my life. The loss of life opened my eyes to the gift of life surrounding me each and every day that I will never take for granted again.