Warning: This is about my miscarriage. I wrote this to reflect how I’m feeling right now. That being said I am still very happy with my life and our family. This time of year is just hard.
January 7, 2017 is the day I married my best friend. January 7, 2018 I should have had a baby. January 7, 2019 I should have had a 1 year old, but I don’t.
Don’t get me wrong, I have my almost 7 month old daughter who is the love of my life. But there is a child of mine I never got to meet or hold that would be turning a year old if they would have survived.
It’s a really weird feeling knowing I would have a kid walking and talking (kind of) if everything went well. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s really hard to look at babies born around this time. It feels selfish and awful, but it’s the truth. I have nothing against anyone who has a baby that’s turning 1 right now, I love these parents and kids a lot, but it’s hard.
Not only is it hard, it has to be difficult in private. I don’t want anyone to think that I’m ungrateful for what I have (I’m not) or that I’m mad at them for what they have (again I’m not) it’s just a bizarre situation that I have no idea to how to navigate. I want to be happy, I want to be supportive, but it’s more difficult than I want to admit. It’s debilitating.
It feels really good putting it out there; I know I’m not alone. For those of us who have miscarried, due dates are a funny thing. For me it’s a time to think about the baby I love that I never met. To appreciate the time I had with them.
Here are two pictures that I love from that time in our lives that I never felt brave enough to share.