Trigger Warning: Pregnancy Loss

“Are you going to get a new car?”

The question felt silly at the time, but it seems absurd now, eight years later. I was five weeks pregnant, at a work conference, and had been too excited to keep it to myself. I told the three colleagues who were at the conference with me, mostly because I felt like I needed to explain my sudden change in dietary habits (especially on the beach in Florida at an unsupervised conference).

One of them asked me if I planned to get a new car, since my little Honda Civic was, in fact, little.

The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was thinking about names, wondering about the sex, dreaming of how I’d decorate their room.

Sunlit fallen leaves on a dirt trail, illuminated with bright sunlight.

Then three weeks later, I started bleeding at work. I went to the doctor, they confirmed my fear, patted me on my back and sent me on my way.

Not knowing what to do, and not wanting to go home to an empty house, I went back to work. But first I sat in my little car that I very clearly did not need to replace, and texted my three colleagues to tell them. I couldn’t bear to do it face to face. I felt embarrassed, silly for being so excited, caught in a spotlight I didn’t want to be in.

I felt alone.

Colorful autumn leaves scattered on brown mulch.

Back at work, though, another colleague came into my office and closed the door. “I was pregnant last week and now I’m not,” she said. I was shocked. We were in the exact same boat, at the exact same time, each of us feeling alone and sad. I wonder what she thought when I froze in my seat and didn’t respond immediately. But then I found my tongue, and told her that we were experiencing that horribleness together.

It was a real bonding moment, and I think of her every June, when the due dates for our lost babies comes and goes for another year.

It wasn’t until much later that I read the stats on pregnancy loss. That 1 in 4 pregnancies don’t make it past the first trimester. It’s not a stat that makes loss better, but it is helpful in knowing that you’re not alone when you go through it.

Lots of fallen autumn leaves in patchy sunlight on a trail.

If you have experienced pregnancy loss and feel like you don’t know anyone else who has gone through it, it’s actually quite possible that you do, and that they just haven’t talked about it publicly (or privately with you). It can be hard to be the person who goes first, putting yourself out there in search of connection and understanding. But once you find others like you, having a community of support is a real lifeline to healing.

You’re not alone. October is Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month. And if you feel like you want to talk about it but don’t know how, you can DM me and I’ll listen, with no judgement. ❤️

Red, yellow, and green fallen leaves on an asphalt parking lot
Previous
Previous

Mini Sessions That are Actually Convenient

Next
Next

You Actually Are Photogenic