No matter how much time passes I am always surprised at how each experience of "coming out" to someone as a miscarriage survivor is completely unique. You would think after talking the ear off of the entire internet I would have come up with a really slick way to answer the tough questions by now. Nope, not particularly. I mean, in fairness, for a while there I think I hit my stride with a pretty professional stock response to the answer "when are you guys having kids?", but now that I have a fair amount of distance from the topic in question, those conversations have taken on a new quality. It has found a way to cycle back to being a little awkward again for all new reasons.
The other night I was chatting with a co-worker who I am very friendly with, but do not know at all outside of the context of work. We were talking about our relationships and she asked if we were planning on kids soon. Within the space of the split second pause between her asking and my answering, I had an entire internal dialogue with myself. Sure, some of the old conflicts are still present (will this make the other person uncomfortable? will this make me uncomfortable? how do I share this in a genuine yet non burdensome way?), but there was a brand new layer to it. The new layer, I think, has to do with the difference between being actively in crisis and being in the aftermath. The truth is that at this point when asked I could simply say "oh, we're thinking about trying" and it wouldn't be a lie. I could easily omit the miscarriage spiel from the dialogue. For that matter, I could pack up this blog now and start fresh as just another lady on the road to baby town. Because I am. But I find myself still engaging in the conversation.
Instead of dodging the real reason we don't have kids right now, I chose to share that we had lost a pregnancy at the beginning of the year. The question isn't difficult to answer because I felt sad or didn't know how to answer, it was difficult because I find myself feeling a little self conscious in this new role. Basically I have circled back to the starting line in many ways. After what felt like scaling a mountain, I am back on ground level looking up with all the same hope and excitement, but also with a new trepidatious knowledge of the rocky crags and thinning atmospheres that are very real potential dangers. I'm back to square one, but this time I'm not a rookie. How is the advanced beginner supposed to answer these questions? Do I just treat it like a re-do? Do I change how I approach everything? A little of both?
I guess that's part of why I've chosen to continue to write every week when I could just as easily wrap up the conversation (aside from the general fact I feel that sharing stories is universally and mutually healing). I'm still writing because I still wish I had a guide through this. When I started this blog I needed someone to offer some real-talk about surviving a miscarriage and wanted to be one such voice for people who were looking for the same. Now I'd love someone to tell me what the heck comes next--so I'll keep trying to be that voice as well as I figure it out for myself as best I can. What does life look like after miscarriage? What does (here's hoping!) pregnancy look like after? What's the stuff that comes up that nobody talks about? A part of me longs to be that breezy, optimistic gal who is just trying to have a baby in a casual, natural way and part of me is a cynical old crone too jaded for words ...and somewhere in between lies this blog and my particular vantage point back here at the base of the mountain.
The other night I was chatting with a co-worker who I am very friendly with, but do not know at all outside of the context of work. We were talking about our relationships and she asked if we were planning on kids soon. Within the space of the split second pause between her asking and my answering, I had an entire internal dialogue with myself. Sure, some of the old conflicts are still present (will this make the other person uncomfortable? will this make me uncomfortable? how do I share this in a genuine yet non burdensome way?), but there was a brand new layer to it. The new layer, I think, has to do with the difference between being actively in crisis and being in the aftermath. The truth is that at this point when asked I could simply say "oh, we're thinking about trying" and it wouldn't be a lie. I could easily omit the miscarriage spiel from the dialogue. For that matter, I could pack up this blog now and start fresh as just another lady on the road to baby town. Because I am. But I find myself still engaging in the conversation.
Instead of dodging the real reason we don't have kids right now, I chose to share that we had lost a pregnancy at the beginning of the year. The question isn't difficult to answer because I felt sad or didn't know how to answer, it was difficult because I find myself feeling a little self conscious in this new role. Basically I have circled back to the starting line in many ways. After what felt like scaling a mountain, I am back on ground level looking up with all the same hope and excitement, but also with a new trepidatious knowledge of the rocky crags and thinning atmospheres that are very real potential dangers. I'm back to square one, but this time I'm not a rookie. How is the advanced beginner supposed to answer these questions? Do I just treat it like a re-do? Do I change how I approach everything? A little of both?
I guess that's part of why I've chosen to continue to write every week when I could just as easily wrap up the conversation (aside from the general fact I feel that sharing stories is universally and mutually healing). I'm still writing because I still wish I had a guide through this. When I started this blog I needed someone to offer some real-talk about surviving a miscarriage and wanted to be one such voice for people who were looking for the same. Now I'd love someone to tell me what the heck comes next--so I'll keep trying to be that voice as well as I figure it out for myself as best I can. What does life look like after miscarriage? What does (here's hoping!) pregnancy look like after? What's the stuff that comes up that nobody talks about? A part of me longs to be that breezy, optimistic gal who is just trying to have a baby in a casual, natural way and part of me is a cynical old crone too jaded for words ...and somewhere in between lies this blog and my particular vantage point back here at the base of the mountain.
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