I dared to hope. I dared to try again, against reason, against despair. And here I am again: another loss. Another miscarriage. This time, we will not hope again. This time, we’ve decided to give up hope and turn our hearts toward all we have: each other and one beautiful boy.
In one day, I gave up the dream of my son having a brother or sister. In one moment, the dream of a second child dissolved like the honey I stir into my tea.
This time, the loss does not hurt so badly. This is my second miscarriage in 6 months. The luck I have in falling pregnant on the first try feels like fool’s gold. Who cares if I can get pregnant on a dime if it all goes down the toilet? Who cares if it all leads to this, these red rivers of loss?
I remember now that the first few days were okay, after my last loss. I wasn’t actually okay: it was shock. But once the shock wore off, the grief woke up and took me for a wild ride. Will it happen again? Will it slam me down with the force of a thousand horses? Or will it be less intense? At least this time, I didn’t hold my baby’s body. At least this time, there is no body to bury. But does that make it easier? Or worse?
I am not compelled to name this baby. I did not learn his or her gender; no one did. But I dreamed of this baby. I dreamed of a girl this time, with brown eyes and brown hair. I dreamed of her birth, over and over. I imagined her plump wrists and smooth cheeks. And because of these dreams, I felt calm. I felt confident. I dreamed none of these things when I was pregnant with Julian, my son I lost in my fourth month of pregnancy. With Julian, I carried a sense of dread, a fear of loss I couldn’t shake even after we passed the first trimester. While I was devastated by his loss, I could recall my sense of foreboding and it gave a sense of inevitability to his death.
But not so, this time.
This time I feel confused. What about my calm assurance? What about the sense of peace and calm I received while doing Chi Gong at the meditation center — a sense that could let go of my grief for I was going to have a baby and it was all going to be okay? What about that?