The Hardest Post I'll Ever Write

It's been four months and it still hurts. Most days the feeling goes away or my day starts normal but it always goes to the same place, what if it didn't happen? How could I be so horrible? Why did I make this happen? It's that dark secret that no one talks about but a lot of people go through and I'm going to share my own story because I'm tired of silence.

In June this year after a stressful move and a bout of depression so bad I was on medication I noticed something a little off. My period had been late for the first time since Jon was bored, I was tired, cranky, sick all the time, and most importantly my tummy was starting to look a little more round than usual.

The test was negative and I shrugged it off and kept about my life. But the feeling that something wasn't right just wouldn't leave. Another negative test a week later and I decided it was time to see the doctor. Negative urine test but the doctor agreed, the symptoms were clear and we'd need a blood test to make sure.

While I waited for a chance to get it done, and had another negative test, I decided enough was enough. It had to be negative right? No way four tests were wrong and worrying over it wasn't making me feel much better. I resumed taking my antidepressants and treated myself to a drink one night. I decided to let my one year old climb on my tummy like he used to. All attempts at keeping a fetus safe were throw out the window.

But it wasn't enough to act like the negative was true. Ever had a feeling inside that you couldn't shake? A feeling like you know something is going on regardless of all the signs telling you you're wrong? I should have listened to it.

It was late August when I bought the last test. It was late August that I saw it go positive. It was two days later that I felt it. I was at the mall when the cramps hit. It was a wave of pure pain followed by a distinct empty feeling. A hospital trip later assured me it was "fine".

It wasn't fine. 10 days of heavy bleeding and one passes baby later I went to the doctor to confirm that my fears were in fact correct. August 29th I lost the baby. On August 29th I spiraled into a storm of self loathing so strong that nothing made it better. Not my son. Not reading or writing.

I felt like I was a murderer. It was my body, my baby, my fault. I spent hours picturing my life with the new baby. How would Jon react? Would it have been a girl or boy? What would it look like? Over and over and over until I didn't feel like a person anymore. It was a feeling of guilt above all else.

I feel like a lot of parents that go through this feel this way and I need to say something really important, It's not your fault. It took me months to realize it. Agnoizing months of beating myself up and shutting myself away. It's really important to know that it's not anyones fault and it happens. So many women go through it and yet when I did I felt so alone.

It's been months and I still think about the little life I loss. I remember feeling it move and spending long nights saying to Riley 'But what if the test was wrong". Nights of telling myself I was wrong not the tests. But it's not my fault and if you go through it it's not yours either.

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