It’s been almost 2 months since my second miscarriage and subsequent D&C. And I’m not feeling as strong as I thought I would. When I posted here to tell people I had miscarried the pregnancy, I gave the impression, to myself, and anyone reading, that I would be dusting myself off and “getting back on the horse”. It hasn’t really worked like that. I have found myself affected despite not wanting to waste time feeling sad. It has manifested in something strange:
I don’t want to try again. Well, I do, I want another baby… I just don’t want another miscarriage.
I don’t know if I can face another miscarriage. I don’t want to have sex because there is a risk I’ll get pregnant, even though it’s not entirely straightforward for us to get pregnant in the first place because of my PCOS (or whatever it is, but more on why I’m questioning that diagnosis another time). “Well why don’t you just take the pressure off and use protection?” asked my well-meaning, lovely friend on Friday night over a bottle of wine. Well, we could, but that would feel like we were wasting even more valuable time. Delaying it further wouldn’t stop the fear.
I’m basically stuck in a catch 22 and it’s a really unpleasant place to be. Worse is the fact that I really don’t know what to do about it. Not having sex will stop me from getting pregnant, yes, although my body was more than capable of stopping me from getting pregnant despite swinging from the chandeliers – so then we may as well go down the protection route, right? I don’t know what to do, for my sanity, for my marriage and for my son.
This isn’t a problem I had after my first miscarriage. I was still blindly hopeful. Everyone said “there’s always next time”. Not a particularly helpful thing to say to anyone who’s just suffered a miscarriage, but deep down, I actually believed it. I had more hope then than I do now. There was no reason I should be unlucky enough to have two miscarriages in a row, so yeah, there was “always next time”. No one has said that to me this time, and they’re right not to: “next time” doesn’t mean what it did in the strange limbo between my last two pregnancies. Now “next time” is another certain miscarriage to me.
I just wanted to share this, because I said I’d keep talking, and this is the latest unexpected installment on my journey to attempt to obliterate the miscarriage taboo. It may not be something everyone experiences, but it’s what I’m experiencing, and, well, I don’t know. I know some people who read this blog have had multiple miscarriages, and some have ended up with the family they wanted; some are still trying, some have made decisions they never thought they’d be making. I wonder if what I’m feeling is more common than I think?