(Content warning: This story mentions miscarriage.)
In February last year, as I was struggling to stay afloat in school, I was also battling intense first-trimester pregnancy symptoms. I completed many essays and quizzes from the comfort of my couch, laptop in one hand and puke bucket in the other, while being a full-time mom to my three other kids (and still managed to pass the term with honours, I am absolutely that girl). This was not what I had envisioned my university journey to look like in the slightest, but alas, there we were. In June, however, I underwent one of the most traumatic experiences of my life—a miscarriage. Aside from the emotional whiplash I experienced, it was physically taxing and excruciatingly painful. With that said, I am admittedly a glass-half-full kind of gal, and as such, although this experience was nothing short of difficult, I also feel that I learned a lot of lessons from it that I think are beneficial in many facets of life.
You are not alone: I am someone who processes my feelings (the good, the bad, and the ugly) by talking about them. I had publicly announced my pregnancy during the first week of April, and as such, I kind of felt like I had to publicly announce the miscarriage as well. Usually, I am not someone who shies away from talking about the nitty-gritty, however, for some reason with the miscarriage I was so scared about how the announcement was going to be perceived. I was also afraid that I was somehow going to forever have this “stigma” attached to me that may make other people uncomfortable. Anyway, after sharing my experience, I was blown away by how many others not only showed me support and sent their well wishes and condolences, but also by how many people confided in me that they too had experienced a miscarriage. I realise now that just because people aren’t talking about something doesn’t mean that it’s not happening. Most of the time, many of us just power through it alone, and as such, we can feel isolated because it feels like no one else is going through what we are. Odds are, as human beings, we have all been impacted by heartache, hardships and trauma to some degree—our negative experiences don’t make us “damaged”, it’s just a part of life. Try talking about your uncomfortable experiences with those who are close to you or join a support group if that’s possible—you too may be surprised by how many others you come to relate to.
Advocate for your health: The duration of my pregnancy was uncomfortable, to say the least, and not just physically. Mentally, I kind of knew that something was “off”, but often, my concerns were rebuffed or brushed off to the side. Without being too graphic, the week before I was informed that I had miscarried, I went into the ER with some pretty intense symptoms—this was a visit that ended with me walking out after nine hours of not seeing anyone and having the nurse in the waiting room, as well as a doctor on the phone, tell me that my concerns were “probably nothing to worry about”. If you feel that something is wrong, especially with your health, advocate for yourself. I cannot stress this enough—had I not been as persistent as I was, there is a chance it would have taken me even longer to have gotten answers for my situation. If you aren’t comfortable advocating for your own health, maybe lean into your support system and see if they can advocate alongside you or on your behalf. Your health is nothing to joke about, and you know your body more than you realise.
Support is not just for the weak: As much as I like to refer to myself as being “one of a kind” and “so original”, I am aware that I am probably not the only person who suffers from the need to do it all and not ask for help, like, ever. I am someone who feels like I am inconveniencing others whenever I ask for support. When I miscarried, I essentially had to lean into my support system. For one, I required more physical help than usual due to the pain and symptoms I was experiencing, and two, mentally, it just felt nice to lean into my circle during a time of such emotional turbulence. If you are lucky enough to have a support system that you trust, please lean on them when you need to, I promise that it will make trudging through the difficult times a lot easier.
It’s okay to move forward: Grief is weird. One minute, you can’t imagine moving forward, and the next you’re almost judging yourself for doing exactly that. Grief is not linear and believe it or not it can co-exist with feelings of joy (cue Disney’s Inside Out here). Moving on and moving forward is normal. I promise that feeling excitement for your future or happiness in the present moment does not invalidate the hurt that you experienced.