Thank you.
A lot of people have said they’re encouraged, inspired, and thankful I’ve been so open with our infertility struggle, with our now second miscarriage, etc. And some people don’t get it. It’s such a personal, intimate thing someone goes through. I’m sharing the most inner details of my life. Our lives. I ask Kevin before I post anything I *think* he might have a problem with. He is an extremely private person, but he has never vetoed anything. He unconditionally supports my need to process the way I do.
We’ve had multiple conversations over when we’d tell people. Wait until you’re 12 weeks, they say. Why? So if you have a miscarriage before then you have no one to talk to? Why do you have to keep 1/3 of your pregnancy a secret? I don’t understand. I told Kevin I wanted to shout it from the rooftops because finally, FINALLY, it had happened. 13 LONG months of trying. In fact, we were telling the rest of our family on Christmas morning and then I was sharing it here the following day. We thought it’d be best for our grandparents to find out from us – not Fattitude. The truth of the matter is that after both losses, I need the support from family and friends. I need the extra hug. I need the same response you’d give someone when you find out someone they loved passed away – because ultimately, I did. It’s a normal part of life, but that doesn’t make it any less sucky.
Last Christmas, a cousin asked us when we were going to have kids. I told her that we had experienced a loss at 10 weeks and were trying. She and her other half began apologizing profusely for asking. Foot in mouth style. There was nothing to apologize for. No one did anything wrong. It’s perfectly normal to ask child baring aged married couple, WTF ARE YOUR KIDS?!?! But a miscarriage is a normal, common thing too. I want it to feel normal to talk about normal things – not taboo.
My mother in law told me the other day that my sister in law showed her my hilarious Trigger Shot MS Paint series and prefaced it by saying she hoped it was okay that she read it. It was more than okay. I instantly felt closer to her. I instantly felt at ease. I wasn’t this elephant in the room struggling with infertility – chugging wine to answer the age old question, “Is she pregnant?” Fill’er up, guys!
And then there is work. Last time, word had spread that I had a miscarriage. Then I didn’t know who knew and who didn’t know. A simple, “How are you?” turned into this horrible feeling of schizophrenia, “Do they know, has anyone told them, how much do they know, am I allowed to tell the truth?” I worked from home yesterday and today people have asked me if I had a good few days off, I want to scream, “NO!!! THEY SUCKED DONKEY DICK! Thanks for asking!” but instead I say yes. I don’t know who knows and who doesn’t. Everyone knows we are trying.
People wonder if I will be okay to go to functions and events with babies and pregnant women. I don’t want your baby, I want my baby. (Except maybe my niece, she’s pretty damn perfect.) Yes, I am happy to talk about your pregnancy – I threw my sister in law’s baby shower like 6 months after the first miscarriage. I don’t want your pregnancy – I want mine. Is it a reminder? Yes. Is it hard? Yes. But I don’t want to be treated differently. I just want normal.
I am not ashamed of my miscarriages. I am not less of a woman. I have done nothing wrong. I refuse to keep secrets in lieu of it making someone uncomfortable. I refuse to walk around as though I’m some form of Hester Prynne with a scarlet letter on my chest.
When you learn about the birds and the bees you don’t learn about miscarriages and all the things that can go wrong. No one talks about it. Well, I do. And I will. I can’t live with people walking on eggshells because we haven’t had a successful pregnancy yet. I am Danielle. I am not Poor Danielle That Keeps Having Miscarriages Oh Boo Hoo Let’s All Whisper About It So We Don’t Unleash A Hell Storm Of Tears And A Possible Nervous Breakdown. I am just Danielle.
I am grateful for everyone that has shared their miscarriage story with me.
It’s okay to call, text, email, etc. (this includes you mom!) It’s okay to ask how we’re doing. It’s okay to ask where we are at with everything. It’s okay to say a prayer for us. It’s okay to text me and check in. It’s okay to just hug me. I love all your positive vibes and mojo.
But please don’t beat around the bush. Please don’t think that I’m falling apart when I’m giving your sweet baby hugs and kisses; I’m not. Please don’t let your awkwardness make me feel like I’ve done something wrong.
We are strong.
I am strong.
Kevin is strong.
Your support, positive thoughts, love and energy is exactly why I share my story.
And for the woman that doesn’t feel like she can.
Damn girl, that's a lot of fattitude 
I don’t know if there’s an easy way to deal with any of this. I felt extremely alone after my mc, because we had chosen to only tell a couple people and I had to mainly deal with making the shitty phone calls to my obgyn, my birth photographer and my doula, knowing very well I would be receiving those awkward responses from people I barely knew while those who were closest to me hadn’t a clue what I had gone through. Eventually I did share it, but I vowed that next time around I too will shout out from the rooftops. The more we talk and share the more we learn about ourselves and what others have gone through. Strength in numbers. Big hugs sweetie. Xx
There is definitely no easy way. That feeling of being alone is exactly why I have to talk about it. When I get into my own head and have nowhere to go, I just fall apart. Strength is numbers is what will break the silence. I just want to feel normal.
I will pray for you. My friends call me the “baby whisperer” because once they let me know they’re trying I tell them in time it will happen and so far it has, shortly after the fact, with two friends, a cousin (who is 42) and a co worker. Whose to say this blessing will not work in favor of an awesome blogger and woman such as yourself. You and your hubby will get what you deserve! Time is the only culprit. I watched my mom go through 3 miscarriages and after she stoped the fertility I got blessed with two little sisters, she was 38 years old. I’m rooting for you!