Even after 3 years, I still can’t think of my miscarriage without having a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I still remember that fateful rainy day, when I had visited my gynecologist for a routine check up. I was 10 weeks pregnant. But on examination, she found the foetus had no heart beat. My baby had stopped growing inside and the only option was a D & C (Dilation and Curetting) as soon as possible to avoid an infection. I had broken the news of my pregnancy to my friends and relatives just a day before. Amidst the phone calls and messages of ‘Congratulations’, I had to inform them that the baby was no more.
Instead of a D & C, I opted for abortion pills. The pain was bad, but it was nothing compared to what I was going through emotionally. Only when the embryo was flushed in the toilet that I let myself go. And how! I still remember the emptiness I had felt. It felt as if an important part of me had gone missing. It’s rightfully said that a woman becomes a mother the day she discovers she’s pregnant. That’s what happened to me. One day I was a mother and the next, I ceased to be one.
Whatever said and done, the trauma of a miscarriage is a woman’s and woman’s alone. The husbands can see you hurt but can’t feel the pain. I asked again and again, “Why me?” I cried, many a nights, myself to sleep. I stopped talking to family and shunned company. Believe me; nobody can understand your pain unless she has gone through it. I avoided pregnant women and birth functions. It was as if I was deliberately avoiding everything and everybody that could remind me of what I had lost. It’s natural and perfectly ok. Everybody has a different way of dealing with the pain. Some cry, some talk about it while some try to run away from it as if it never happened in the first place.
A few months later, I was pregnant again. But I wasn’t jumping with joy this time. The experience of the first time still loomed large. Exactly a year to the miscarriage, I had my little baby in my arms. And only when I had my little baby in my arms, that the pain of the little unborn started ebbing.
I pray to God that nobody has to survive the trauma of a miscarriage but in case one needs to, God gives the courage to survive it. It helps to understand: If the baby didn’t happen, then it wasn’t meant to.