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New York, NY 10011
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Miscarriage can be Isolating, but you are not Alone. Here is my Story.

There have been times where I’ve not been proud of my body. Today, women are taught we aren’t good enough. We aren’t good enough if we aren’t skinny enough; we aren’t good enough if we don’t have clear skin; we aren’t good enough if we work and have children; lastly, we aren’t good enough if we don’t have children.

Unfortunately, there are individuals who think something is wrong with us if we don’t have children. This can be a personal decision – our bodies, our choice. However, there are a lot of instances where we have absolutely no control over this. This is something I know first-hand.

A few years after I was blessed with my beautiful son, I was lucky enough to become pregnant again. This time I was hoping for a girl; after all, it was what my son wanted.

“Mommy,” he would often say, “When can I have a baby sister?”

I hadn’t told anyone at first except for my partner. I had faced judgment while pregnant with my son due to my age. Being a young mom was often frowned upon. I wanted a calming experience this time, as well as support.

I remember the last appointment I had before everything changed. There was finally a heartbeat and my doctor told me everything looked great.

This is exciting, I thought, and I had planned to finally tell my family the good news.

The next morning, I had woken up to some spotting. I didn’t think much of it; it was still early on in my pregnancy and I thought this might have been normal. Throughout the day, however, it got worse. Around 6 pm that evening, I decided to drop my son off to my mom and go to the hospital.

I sat in the emergency room for six hours, bleeding, and not being told a single thing. During the ultrasound, I sobbed as I examined the technician’s face for a hint of something, anything, that would help me figure out if there was still a heartbeat.

Finally, around midnight, I was brought into an examination room where a doctor told me I had miscarried. There was no heartbeat.

I cried. I hated myself. I felt so betrayed by my own body, and I thought there was something wrong with me. My doctor and the doctor at the hospital could not answer my questions as to why this happened; there were endless possibilities. I concluded that it was me. It had to be.

When I told my family, they were surprised as they had no idea I was pregnant to begin with. Some had sympathized with me, but others not so much. I had heard things like, ‘it’s better this way,’ ‘now you can focus on more important things,’ and ‘you still have time, you’re so young.’

I stayed angry for a long time. Mostly at myself and my body. I blamed my diet, my mental health as I had often struggled with depression, too much exercise or lack of exercise. I blamed myself for anything and everything. I felt alone. At this point in my life, I didn’t know many women who might have experienced the same thing.

I also felt like I couldn’t talk about it. Miscarriage seemed like such a taboo topic; nobody wanted to engage in that conversation with me.

Fast forward to now, and so many things have changed. I work in a safe place. Women of all different backgrounds come in who have experienced and felt the same as me. I have realized that I am not alone. We are not alone.

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