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How My Miscarriages Stole My Joy

You've been trying for a baby for what feels like forever. You have a missed period, you feel nauseous, your boobs are sore and you take a test. Those 2 pink lines show up, some quickly and dark, some slower and faint but they are there. Showing the signs of what your future will hold. Your heart skips a beat, you get a weird prickly feeling up the back of your neck and you cry. You're happy. And scared. Holy shit you are freaking out. You have wanted this so badly and you've been looking at pregnancy announcements and gender reveals while saving them to your Pinterest Board. You think of ways to tell your partner, the fun ideas to record and capture that joy and happiness of being parents. You cry together because you've made a mini that is part you and part them. You tell your family and friends and even jump the gun and buy a cute little pair of shoes that you will fill with little baby feet.


And then it's gone.


All the hopes of your future is gone in the blink of an eye. You cry. So so much that you can't breathe. You want to crawl into a hole and let your tears consume you. You can't catch your breath when you try and talk about how you are feeling. The feeling of losing your baby. You fake a smile but then the grief hits you like a plank of wood to the face and you sob. Your eyes sting and your body hurts. Your heart hurts so bad. It's broken. You blame yourself because there are no answers. This is a feeling that you never want to experience ever again because you aren't sure you could make it through mentally or physically.


But it does. Happen again.


You see the pink lines and you feel happy for a second and then it hits you. You stop that feeling instantly because you feel deep down that it won't last. It didn't before, so why should it this time? You tell your partner in passing, like letting them know that you put the washing on, because thats what it feels like now. You tell your family and friends, but with hesitation because their happiness doesn't make sense to you. You haven't kept the Pinterest board because why?

You don't even bother looking at baby clothes, it's not worth the pain.

The tears are still there but you can breath this time. You still blame yourself, it's the only thing that makes sense when there are no answers as to why. You shrug your shoulders when people tell you that they are sorry you have to go through it again. Like it's a regular thing that happens so you just accept it.

The thing is, you know you can make it through because you already have. You are breathing and you are out there, sharing your story. You realise that this really sucks, losing a baby. But you are ok and you still want to keep trying.


Then it happens again.


You see the pink lines again. But there is nothing there. No joy. No happiness. Nothing. It's just a piece of plastic you peed on with 2 coloured lines. It doesn't mean anything anymore. Why would it? Those 2 lines don't mean a happy ending. There is no announcement because there will be no baby, in your mind. It happens at work, you clean up and you finish your day. You work through the cramps and pain but there are no tears. When people ask, you tell them you lost another baby and then continue the conversation on how you missed the latest episode of your favourite show that you all bond over at work. There is no sadness over losing the baby. There is sadness of not feeling that joy and happiness anymore when you see those 2 pink lines.


I hate that I have been robbed of my happiness and excitement of being pregnant BUT I am proud that I have the strength to keep going. My miscarriages have stolen my joy, the excited feeling of announcing it to my family and friends and the sole happiness of sharing it with my husband and daughter. We are doing IVF, we are nearing the end of this crazy journey and hopefully, a baby. I may not have the happiness when I see the 2 pink lines but my family and friends will. Their joy will have to be enough for now. Until our rainbow is in my arms, breathing and holding my little finger. That's when I will ignite the possibility of joy and happiness, the tears I have been saving up for their first breath and my first skin to skin interaction.


Infertility is hard. It can make you sad, angry, depressed, bitter, resentful and emotionless.

Being infertile can change a person, sometimes for the worst or sometimes for the better.

I may not feel that 'joy' at the moment but I feel comfort that I have the most amazing support circle that are there to for me, ready to help me up if I should fall.











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