Miscarriage, The Women’s Silent Health Issue
Miscarriage, however, made me feel like nothing more than a helpless hostage in my own body waiting my impending doom. I had been told by my doctor that I would indeed miscarry and my job was to simply sit back and await my fate. Finally, one morning I woke up at four a.m. and felt the most excruciating pain. Deep in my heart I knew it was happening. I lay there in the dark pondering what to do. My husband was sleeping soundly. Our dog was too. Suddenly, for a brief moment, I felt like a small piece of my old self came clawing back from the grave, the woman whose inner strength and courage hadn’t been depleted by the dirty “M word.” If this is going to happen, it’s going to be on my terms, I thought.
I ran a full, hot bath and just sat. An hour later, still nothing. Just immense pain. I got up on my knees and contorted my body in various positions. Finally, in a single instant I miscarried. At first, I looked around and only saw a sea of red. In almost barbaric behavior, I tore apart clots and tissue with my bare hands until something caught my eye. Floating beside my left foot, there it was. I sat down and picked it up. I continued to sit there until the water turned cold and studied every inch of it. The color, the size, the texture. This was the only way for me to gain the closure I so desperately craved. It provided a way for me to take charge in a situation that I had zero control over, and that felt empowering. Then I got up, showered and prepared for my day.
It is my hope that one day women can talk as freely about miscarriage as we do about any other health issue we face. Roughly one in four women will experience a miscarriage. It’s time for women to stop feeling isolated and ashamed while they mourn the loss of something society still hasn’t learned to properly acknowledge.