I had a miscarriage in February. The pregnancy did not progress past the five week mark, but the sac had grown to about nine weeks. I was devastated.
The night after my sonogram when I found out there was no heartbeat, I stayed up until five in the morning writing about the sadness of the experience.
Cut to a month or so later. I’m surrounded by constant reminders that I’m not pregnant and yet, I’m walking around feeling healthy and normal and, well, not depressed at all. I am functional and happy, despite two of my friends being pregnant (and due when I would have been due) and two of their friends being pregnant as well. They don’t even act weird around me, meaning I must be sending normal energy out into the universe.
Based on all my highly sensitive reactions to all things TTC (trying to conceive), I assumed I would be a wreck after this miscarriage. If I broke out pie charts of my life’s traumas and the resulting coping mechanisms, you would safely predict that my miscarriage would be a major setback. You might predict that you’d find me for 12 days straight, showering only three of those days, ugly-crying on a cot, in a dark room, living off of strawberry Fruit Roll-Ups and Totino’s Pizza. Because that’s how I cope with trauma.
But no. After that first wave of sadness, I’m good.
It helped to learn that one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage. Medically speaking miscarriages are actually, dare I say, relatively normal occurrences. That helped me feel better about what had happened.
While I was trying to conceive, I didn’t know if my body knew how to get pregnant, which was emotionally draining for me. While my miscarriage was terrible, I figure I should be thankful that my body does, in fact, still know how to get pregnant. Now, can it stay pregnant? I will cross that bridge when it’s time. After I shared the story of my miscarriage, I got an email from a reader saying that “it’s all about the right soul at the right time.” And that really helped. This time wasn’t the time.
Also, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that I couldn’t really find many folks sharing my experience of recovering from my miscarriage… who’s really going to go on the Internet and say “I feel awesome!” after a miscarriage? No one would do that. (Ducks head behind laptop.) People who share their feelings of sadness are looking for others with a common experience. That is normal. That warrants a ton of Internet conversation — to relate to someone is huge part of the healing. So, when I did a search about not being depressed after a miscarriage, I shouldn’t have been surprised that I didn’t find much. But no one wants to be judged for not feeling the way she’s “supposed” to feel.
Sure, this “okayness” might be fleeting. I might feel totally devastated next week, next month, next year. Who could know? But for right now, I feel fine, and I don’t want to feel bad about this response. So if you’re reading this and you relate, well then, that’s great.
I will say it again so that it comes up in the search engine for anyone looking for validation like I was. I don’t feel that depressed after my miscarriage. And that’s okay, too.