This post includes discussion of pregnancy loss that may be distressing to some readers.
Two pink lines.
No.
No. No. No.
This was my initial reaction upon finding out I was pregnant 12 days ago. Yes, I know how babies are made but without going into detail, this was still a very unlikely outcome. One my partner and I were in no way searching for. I entered our relationship a decade ago with a son I had prepared earlier, then a couple of years ago following a few false starts, we were blessed with a boy of our own.
Watch: How to deal with a miscarriage. Post continues after video.
For us, our family was done. But there they were, two pink lines. And those lines did not care how done our family was.
I am first and foremost pro-choice and am unashamed to admit that our initial conversations surrounded termination. We detailed all our concerns, not least of which was the fear of my mental ill health returning. However, as the hours passed, we found ourselves returning to talk about how we could do it, rather than why we couldn’t and soon our focus was the joy this baby could bring. And so began the fear of wanting this baby, then potentially losing it, as we had two others.
We decided to keep the pregnancy quiet until the dating scan and came to embrace the idea of our growing family. Quietly I had even envisioned a little girl, named after our two beloved grandmas.
Yesterday morning it quickly became clear there was not going to be a baby. The miscarriage was as expected, physically confronting, including two trips to hospital due to concern of an ectopic pregnancy (it was not). What I hadn’t anticipated was the mixed emotion accompanying it.
How my heart could hold two opposing feelings, grief and relief, in equal measure, in the same moment.
Listen to Get Me Pregnant. On this episode, we cover the difficult and emotional topic of miscarriage. Post continues below.
The grief was real and raw as I sobbed and mourned. Not so much a baby, but the vision of what our life may have been. Who our family would have grown into. There were flickers of guilt as I wondered if I had done something wrong, but I know I did not. These things just happen. I grieved the knowledge that there would be no more babies. Because as much as we had embraced the idea of this one, we would not intentionally try for another.
Alongside this, came a murmur of relief. Knowing that all the concerns we had about growing our family, would not have to be faced. That my body would continue to be mine and mine alone after years already given to others. A lightened load in knowing that I would not be on tender hooks each day. There would be no wondering if this addition may be the final straw for my mental ill health, nor would I have to push myself each day to prove to those around me that it was not. There was even a tiny, shame filled joy that I would still be able to play netball. Something that had recently given me a renewed sense of self previously long lost.
But the overwhelming feeling that filled my heart is immense gratitude for the children I do have, and the life I already get to lead with them. I know this is not the same for many others who face miscarriage or infertility struggles, and for those people, I am determined to not take my position for granted.
In this life, we face many sliding doors moments, and it can be hard not to wonder where the other door might have led us. What I am learning though, is that we don’t have to feel only one way about the outcome. And so today, as I head out to a family night out with friends, I will not feel shame when I laugh nor if I cry.
If this has raised any issues for you or if you would like to speak with someone, please contact the Sands Australia 24-hour support line on 1300 072 637. You can download Never Forgotten: Stories of love, loss and healing after miscarriage, stillbirth, and neonatal death for free here.
Feature Image: Getty.