This one is for my ladies

I started to write a very different kind of post. I've had a bad day. No real reason. Just bad.

Sometimes it’s hard to write about miscarriage. A lot of people seem to feel that after a certain point, you should just get over it, especially since other people’s misfortune is only interesting for so long – after a while, it just becomes annoying. No one wants to be the Debbie Downer who constantly whines about how hard life is and how low they’re feeling; heaven knows I don’t want to be that person, and sometimes I worry that (for this blog at least), I am.

On the other hand, I feel like it’s important to be honest and open, that it does a disservice to the emotional devastation you feel after a miscarriage to always pretend like everything is OK – it diminishes the importance of what happened, and I don't want to pretend like it didn't affect me or dismiss it like it didn’t matter. It’s been over four months since I miscarried, and I still think about it every day. Every single day.

So today, I sat down to write about that. But halfway through, I erased everything I'd written. Because today, I don't want to focus on the negative - I want to focus on something positive.

For me, one of the hardest parts of miscarrying was the sense of loneliness and isolation. I have never felt more alone in all my life. I didn't know anyone who I could talk to that had gone through the same thing. None of my friends had, to my knowledge. And as far as I know, I'm the only woman in my family for at least three generations who has miscarried. I was devastated and alone and felt like there was no one I could talk to who could really understand what I was - and still am - going through. Mr Bibliosaur was certainly there for me, but I needed someone else who had physically and emotionally experienced what I was dealing with.

And then I found someone. Lots of someones, actually. I started posting on an online forum for women who are trying to conceive again after a loss - and I cannot even begin to tell you how grateful I am for these ladies. They're strong and brave and supportive, and most importantly of all, they've been there - they understand.

These women have celebrated with me when I'm feeling joyous and optimistic, and commiserated with me when I'm feeling low. They have been my lifeline, and have held my hand through every part of this.

I can tell them everything I'm thinking and feeling, and I know it's safe and welcomed because many of them are often thinking and feeling the same things. I can vent and rage and encourage and celebrate. There's no judgment or sentiment that I'm being unreasonable or or a downer or should just get over it already, and I am deeply and eternally grateful to them for their support. I honestly don't know how I would do this without them.

So today, I'd just like to say: you ladies are awesome. Thank you.