One miscarriage you hope is a fluke. A random mismatching or tripling of chromosomes. Physically, a miscarriage can be just as painful (if not more) than labor, but when it’s over you’re left standing over a toilet or leaving a hospital. Empty ute. Empty arms.
You always carry the grief with you. It hits you fresh when you least expect it. Seeing a woman who is currently as pregnant as you should be. Seeing babies who are the age of your phantom child. The due date. Two weeks past the due date, when you know for certain you would have had a baby.
Eventually though, the sharp edge of grief fades. You sew up the wound, and it’s a bit clumsy, but scar tissue is tough. And it’s all you have left, so you bear it, proud.
Then it happens again.
Staring at that empty uterus on the screen, even though my heart knew this was going to happen, I couldn’t help but think: You’ve got to be shitting me.
Miscarriage #1, Non-Medicated, At Home (forthcoming)