To my pregnant friends

Multiple of my pregnancy loss friends have recently told me they’re pregnant. While I am so happy for them, it is also soul crushing. Aurora died in June and I am still not pregnant again and we’ve been trying since August. It feels as though everyone is getting their rainbow but me. Feeling this way doesn’t mean I don’t love my friends and I’m not happy for them, it means they have become “those women”. Anyone who’s ever lost a baby knows what I mean. “Those women” are the ones who get to be pregnant and have living children while we sit on the sidelines begging and pleading every month and, every month, having our hopes crushed when our periods arrive.

I’ve once again I’ve convinced myself that I’m infertile and won’t be able to get pregnant again. The brain is a powerful enemy to have, especially when combined with depression and anxiety. Recurrent pregnancy loss, for me, means I see my body as a an enemy, something defective in some unknown way that refuses to cooperate. I can’t do something even teenagers at school can do. I seem to be incapable of birthing a living child. And it fucking sucks.

I feel like a broken record, always going over the same basic emotions of sadness, bitterness, resentment, and fear. But this is the reality of pregnancy loss for me and if writing these moments down helps one other person, then it’s worth feeling like I’m exposing myself. I have good days and I feel happiness and contentment. Then I have bad days and I struggle, those are painful and dark.

So, to my sweet friends who are expecting their rainbows:

I am so incredibly happy you’ve made it through your storm. I love you and I love the little babes you’re carrying. My heart breaks at the same time it overflows with happiness for you. I miss my children every day and I am going through my own storm with no end in sight. Please never think that my silence means I don’t love you or your babies. I have to love you from afar right now because you are now the physical embodiment of what hurts me the most. It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me and my head space. You are going to be such wonderful mothers and I can’t wait for that for you. Know that I’m cheering for you and your babies from the sidelines.


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