Grieving After Miscarriage

experiencing loss after miscarriage

I get to go home today. It sounds so good: a soft bed, a beautiful garden, and my cats to curl up next to me. But I notice that I feel empty. Very empty. Images are going through my head of what it would be like to leave the hospital with my newborn child. I shake my head to get out of this dream. Grieving after miscarriage is not a nice feeling.


Grieving After Miscarriage- That Feeling of Loss

Richard will be by in a few hours to take me home. I just need to entertain myself until then. I’ve done enough reading; I’ve listened to all my podcasts and watched all the movies on my friend’s iPod. So, on goes the TV. I’m flipping through the channels until I settle on a program about a father and son hiking through Alaska together. I immediately picture Richard with our son one day doing the same thing. This time I don’t shake off the daydream.

As I’m munching away at my breakfast, staring at the TV, the doctor comes in.

I’m totally surprised by his visit since we said goodbye last night.

grieving after miscarriageWith my mouth half full, I nod and smile. He asks me how I’m feeling. After swallowing my breakfast I say, “Pretty good.” But I don’t leave it at that. I tell him the truth about how I’m feeling after my miscarriage, “It all kind of hit me last night: the emotional side of things.”

He looked as if he knew how I was feeling and said, “I know you’re probably thinking about how things could have been.”

In that very instant my stomach sank into an abyss and a lump took over my throat. Before it was too late to reverse my feelings he said, “But you made it through this and right now the best thing to do is to look forward.”

My stomach returned to its normal location and the lump disintegrated. He’s right. Focusing on the future instead of dwelling on what could have been is going to be the best way to get through all this. Not that this sounds easy, but it sounds like the only way.


A Doctor That Understands Grieving After Miscarriage

I take a moment to digest the whirlwind of emotions I just went through and to listen to the words ringing in my head, “look forward.”

As I look up at him again, a question pops into my head that I thought of last night. A tentative look appears on my face and I ask, “How long until I can start being active again? Like, oh say, skiing?”

“Everyone is different but it could be as soon as ten days,” he replies.

“Ten days?” I repeat with utter surprise. It sounds so soon since getting out of bed is still has an effort for me.

We talk some more and he reminds me that I need to give myself time to heal both emotionally and physically. I nod in complete agreement.

He leaves my room for the last time. As I watch him go through the door I think about how grateful I am to have had a doctor that truly cares and understands grieving after miscarriage.


The Support of My Partner

I lay my head back on the pillow and wait in silence. Richard should be here soon.

Before long, I’m relieved to hear the door knob turning. Richard pops in with my comfy clothes for the ride home. It feels so good to get out of the pajamas I’ve been in for the last four days.

We leave my room and we both take a deep breath as we walk out.

I feel good as I leave the hospital on my own two feet. Getting in the car is tricky, but given my progress over the past two days I know it won’t be long before my body is back to normal.

At home, the living room has been converted into a recovery area. Our bed is sitting where our couch once was and there’s a table next to the bed with books and magazines on it.

I start to cry and I give Richard a hug. He’s afraid to squeeze me, so he puts one arm softly around my shoulders.

I crawl into bed and look out at the beautiful day. I’ll join the rest of the world again soon. I just need some time to recover.


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