At this time last year I was lying in my hospital bed, groggy from narcotics, recovering from emergency surgery to remove an ectopic pregnancy that was threatening my health. We had known for two days that the pregnancy was lost, I had researched my options and was confident in my choice for surgery vs. medical management. What I didn’t know was how profoundly this loss and the healing process would affect me for the better part of the next year.
The loss of something that I barely had, but wanted so much, was painful. Finding the balance between being happy with what I did still have and feeling the grief of what was no more was a struggle. The support I received throughout played a very important part in returning to myself. Hearing the stories of others who had been in my shoes made a world of difference and made me so glad I decided to share when I did. A year on, I can easily find the joy in life, my heart no longer breaks on a daily basis.
I would like to think that the therapy was just that helpful, or that I’m just that well adjusted to be able to come out the other side with a positive outlook, and these things may well be true. But I know that, at least over the last 3 months, it’s been easier since I’ve been pregnant again. I am so happy with this, but it also makes the thought of another loss (though unlikely at this point) so terrifying. A pregnancy loss colours the experience of the next pregnancy. Where I was carefree and excited for each prenantal visit when expecting our daughter, now I can’t help but think that every scan, every heart rate monitor is going to bring bad news. I find joy and excitement in this pregnancy, but I proceed much more cautiously than I otherwise would have.
I’ve made peace, I’m moving on, but it is not forgotten.