I Am Grieving My Baby I Will Never Get To Meet

I Am Grieving My Baby I Will Never Get To Meet

I found out I was pregnant and it seemed like the moment I accepted that, my baby was taken away from me.
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As many as half of all pregnancies may end in miscarriage 50 percent — this number can’t truly be estimated as miscarriage can occur before women even know they are pregnant. Among known pregnancies, about 15 percent of them will end in miscarriage. My pregnancy was a part of that statistic.

First, let me say, if this makes you uncomfortable — good. You are the reason I am writing this. I just had my routine dental hygiene appointment and I found myself on the topic of miscarriage with my hygienist. It came up naturally in conversation, woman-to-woman, about birth control and gynecologist appointment anxiety.

OMG, I know — shocking! We were actually talking about this casually. It was refreshing. This conversation got me thinking, if miscarriage can be spoken of during my dental hygiene appointment comfortably, then it sure as hell can be spoken of in other situations. She treated it no differently than a discussion of a broken arm or the passing of a Grandparent — like any health condition or death — as it should be treated, because that’s what miscarriage is.

So, I am going to talk about my miscarriage.

Almost two years ago exactly, I found out I was pregnant. I am going to be frank. This pregnancy was unplanned. It was not conceived out of love. To be completely honest, I don’t even remember it being conceived. That is a whole other bucket of worms I won’t be touching today. The point is, I was 19-years-old, in college. I was terrified and in shock. I did not consent to this. I did not plan this.

I thought, at first, finding out I was pregnant was the worst day of my life. I was so wrong. The pain of finding out I was pregnant didn’t even touch the pain of finding out I was losing my baby. I found out I was pregnant and it seemed like the moment I accepted that, my baby was taken away from me.

Confusion. Anger. Anguish. Devastation. None of these words even compare to what I was feeling. I was now grieving my child. I was grieving the child I will never get to meet. I am still grieving.

To my little angel: I am so sorry I failed you.

Maybe I didn’t abort you. Maybe I didn’t do anything to hurt you. But I can’t, to this day, shake the feeling that I could have done something to prevent this from happening. I wish I would have appreciated you sooner. I wish you would have been conceived out of love, as you deserved to be. I wish a lot of things. Wishes and “what-ifs” are all I have left.

Every day, for the rest of my life, I will imagine what you would have felt like sleeping on my chest. I will imagine what your giggle would sound like. I will wish that I had the chance to answer your cries, to nurture you, to be your “Mommy.” I will never really know if you had my eyes, or if you would love reading as much as I do. And that kills me inside.

Two years have gone by, and I have barely spoken of this to anyone. I realized very quickly that although I did not do this on purpose, I was expected to be ashamed — to grieve silently, alone. There is a sense of guilt associated with miscarriage and it isn’t the Mother who loses the child that creates it — it is society. This stigma isolates us and it is heartbreaking.

When someone dies unexpectedly, you don’t tell their loved ones that talking about it makes you uncomfortable. You don’t blame their loved ones for their death. You don’t avert your eyes and change the subject, you don’t pass judgement and you don’t shrug it off like it is nothing. Then why do you do all of those things to someone who has experienced a miscarriage?

I have experienced much loss in my life. This miscarriage was no less of a loss to me, and I can assure you that anyone who has experienced one will say the same. Stop telling us we don’t deserve to grieve. Stop telling us it isn’t a loss. Stop telling us to be quiet about it.

Listen to us when we talk about it. Support us through our grieving and validate our loss. That is all that we want and all that we need to get through this. The pain won’t ever go away completely, but it will be much more bearable with you by our side.

To those who are uncomfortable with this: please check yourself. Go online, read up ask your doctor — educate yourself so you can understand and accept that miscarriage is real and it is something we need to be talking about. Don’t isolate your loved one if they have experienced miscarriage. Hug them and love them unconditionally. Talk about it with them. Validate it for them. Tell them that they are no less of a woman, or Mother, because of it. They need that.

Let us grieve. And don’t make us do it alone.

Fly high, my angel.

Cover Image Credit: Word Press

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I'm The Girl Without A 'Friend Group'

And here's why I'm OK with it

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Little things remind me all the time.

For example, I'll be sitting in the lounge with the people on my floor, just talking about how everyone's days went. Someone will turn to someone else and ask something along the lines of, "When are we going to so-and-so's place tonight?" Sometimes it'll even be, "Are you ready to go to so-and-so's place now? Okay, we'll see you later, Taylor!"

It's little things like that, little things that remind me I don't have a "friend group." And it's been like that forever. I don't have the same people to keep me company 24 hours of the day, the same people to do absolutely everything with, and the same people to cling to like glue. I don't have a whole cast of characters to entertain me and care for me and support me. Sometimes, especially when it feels obvious to me, not having a "friend group" makes me feel like a waste of space. If I don't have more friends than I can count, what's the point in trying to make friends at all?

I can tell you that there is a point. As a matter of fact, just because I don't have a close-knit clique doesn't mean I don't have any friends. The friends I have come from all different walks of life, some are from my town back home and some are from across the country. I've known some of my friends for years, and others I've only known for a few months. It doesn't really matter where they come from, though. What matters is that the friends I have all entertain me, care for me, and support me. Just because I'm not in that "friend group" with all of them together doesn't mean that we can't be friends to each other.

Still, I hate avoiding sticking myself in a box, and I'm not afraid to seek out friendships. I've noticed that a lot of the people I see who consider themselves to be in a "friend group" don't really venture outside the pack very often. I've never had a pack to venture outside of, so I don't mind reaching out to new people whenever.

I'm not going to lie, when I hear people talking about all the fun they're going to have with their "friend group" over the weekend, part of me wishes I could be included in something like that. I do sometimes want to have the personality type that allows me to mesh perfectly into a clique. I couldn't tell you what it is about me, but there is some part of me that just happens to function better one-on-one with people.

I hated it all my life up until very recently, and that's because I've finally learned that not having a "friend group" is never going to be the same as not having friends.

SEE ALSO: To The Girls Who Float Between Friend Groups

Cover Image Credit: wordpress.com

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What Rescuing a Dog Taught Me About My Future

She was a real pain to begin with, but I wouldn't give her up for the world now.

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My first dog came from a breeder to us when he was just a puppy. I was in third grade so we were both young together. I remember stepping off of the bus and seeing him curled up in my mom's arms. His breed, a Cavalier King Charles, is a highly sought after dog for their small size and beautiful markings. However, dog breeding can lead to medical complications down the line. Heart murmurs are very frequent as cavaliers get older. When he turned 9 years old, they were already detecting the beginning of a heart murmur in him. But my second dog didn't come to us in quite the same way.

Willow was about a year old. She was rescued from an abusive home where she had to fight for her food from many other dogs. This made her guard resources and distrustful of us. My mom and I begged the rest of our family for the ability to adopt her, and they finally agreed. Being not potty trained, we had to teach her with a lot of positive encouragement when she went pee in the right place (not our carpet). It took her a while to realize that we weren't going to take her food away and she gradually became less resource guarding. She started to trust my other dog more and play with him. A lot of the time, they even snuggle together now.

At the time, I was in my junior year of high school and still thinking about the idea of becoming a veterinarian. She helped me decide to go for it, and now I'm in college and getting ready to apply for veterinary school. Willow has become part of our family, and her funny and unique personality fit right in with us.

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