Member-only story
I’ve Had Four Miscarriages in a Row…And I’m Tired.
For some, trying to conceive is a marathon — not a sprint.
I lay face down in the arena, my mouth full of sand, my body bruised and bleeding. Like my girl Brene Brown talks about, I had dared greatly. And I had lost.
For six months now, I had thrown myself into the trying-to-conceive arena in full battle-armour, ready to fight to have a baby. Some months, the battle was easy. I’d lost, but the defeat had only bruised me a little. Other months I had to be carried from the arena on a stretcher, my body and mind shattered by my loss.
But each month, no matter what the outcome was, I entered the arena again with the attitude that this month I might be the champ. You know what my entrance song was? ‘Tubthumping’ by Chumbawamba (remember that old gem?) No matter how many times I got knocked down, I was going to get back up again. My fear was equal only to my courage. I was a badass. A warrior woman. And I told myself I could keep doing this for years. I would not tire. I would not quit.
That was, until this last round.
It’s been four weeks since my fourth miscarriage. And I am not getting back in that arena right now.
It’s been hard. I haven’t even indulged myself by calling them miscarriages aloud…
