I think a lot about women who have suffered miscarriages. So many of them had either planned or knowingly anticipated the arrival of their babies. I still can’t imagine the depth of their pain, because my miscarriage was unknown and definitely not anticipated.
It’s okay, I wasn’t invested … or so I was told.
For almost a year now I have been blocking the whole situation out because I never really felt like it mattered. I saw no pink lines, no ultrasound. What I saw was nothing but blood and something I had passed in the toilet. I wouldn’t even call it a baby; I couldn’t have been any more than 4 weeks.
It is funny how so many people shrug off miscarriages due to an unknown pregnancy. So many people thought I was okay because I had no knowledge of the pregnancy, therefore I had no attachment to it. I seem to recall feeling differently.
It was an average day, my boyfriend and I thought we’d spend the day in bed watching movies and talking. It was cosy and sweet … until I sat up to go to the bathroom.
“Holy shit, are you okay?!” my boyfriend said just as I turned around and looked down to see a puddle of blood that had seemingly come out of nowhere. I remember my instincts saying “miscarriage”. I rushed to the bathroom.
My friend took me to the doctor. I sat in the waiting room completely shaken, trying to process what had just happened. I suffer from PCOS and had not had a period since I had to go off the Pill, so the doctor just assumed that’s what it was.