The miscarriages that I have had have all been different, I have been unfortunate enough to have had more than one. Some have ended peacefully on their own, and others, due to emergency situations have ended with surgery. Either way the loss is great. The physical pain doesn't compare to the shadows of emotional scars.
I have often found myself wondering the classic - "Why me?"
Guilt. Why did I pick the toddlers up to carry them around the zoo? Did I forget a prenatal vitamin? Was it the aerobics that I did? Why can't I have a baby? You begin to feel like everyone can have a baby but you. Is there something wrong with you? Genetics that are out of place? An improper place to grow a baby? Was it the hormones that your mother took in the 60's to prevent you from being miscarried? This guilt can eat you alive.
I look at Kevin and he seems oblivious. He must not care, or he's thinking that he should have married somebody with a womb that works. Maybe if I try again then I can make him love me again... He doesn't respond to my sexual advances. When I cry I feel like he is looking at me with eyes that say, "This again? Can't you get over it?" I long for his comforting touch, it doesn't come. I fall asleep crying into my pillow, alone again.
Will I ever have a baby to hold?
