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Love, Marriage, & Miscarriage

Yes, we always spoke about having another baby. Yes, our son always asks for a baby sister. No, we didn't plan on getting pregnant so soon, but it happened.

The signs were all there; the bloating, the constipation, the mood swings, the cravings, and the lovely acne, all we needed was a positive pregnancy test...

One week and a digital "yes" later and I was already saving nursery room set ups on my Pinterest board and transferring money into our makeshift "get ready for baby" savings account.

I was happy, I was excited, & we were ready.

It wasn't like before, with our 5 year old son, when I had to think of all the ways in which I was wrong for getting pregnant. This was different. We're married, living on our own and we could care less what anyone else thinks. We were ready.

And then a couple of weeks later, I wake up in the middle of the night to painful cramps, blood everywhere and I immediately begin to cry. Not just from the pain, but from udder disappointment. He drove me straight to the hospital where, after 9 hours of tests and waiting, I was told that I had miscarried. I knew what was happening from the minute I woke up and felt the warm liquid between my legs, so at this point, the constant reviewing of my charts by doctors and nurses was damn near insulting.

I was angry and sad, but I was also fascinated.

How curious it is, to mourn the loss of something I never had. I never felt a kick nor saw an ultrasound, and yet, I felt deprived. As if I was given a candy necklace, with only the string that keeps it together left to remind me of what I almost, could have had.

And in some sick and twisted way, I am almost thankful. Gratitude is one of those things I am learning as a 20-something with a child to raise. Gratitude, is best expressed when you feel like you have nothing to be thankful for. How easy it would have been the lay on that bed crying "woe is me" What I realized, after laying in a hospital bed by myself for almost 9 hours, is that God's plan is always better than my own. No matter how ready I believed myself and my husband to be, inevitably, the universe thought otherwise.

I wanted to (and sometimes still do) blame myself for stealing my husbands joy and ultimately my own. But even that self-pity is deeply flawed. We cannot wait for joy to come with the birth of a new baby. We must create our joy and bring a baby into it. And likewise, we must not wait for our happiness to come to us - whether that be in the form of a new job, a new car, a new man, or a new marriage. It has to start from within. I had to experience loss in order to understand how much more I could gain if I just allow myself to feel true joy.

So to the baby that never was, I thank you for reminding me of my strength. Thank you for reminding me that what is meant for me, will be for me and that no one can stop that. We have put it into the universe that we will have another baby, one day. (And we all know how much I believe in the power of words.)

So I am grateful for the lessons to be learned in loss, and most importantly, I am grateful to be able to feel joy on my own.

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