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Not Sure
The ob-gyn who performed the D&E for Loila had advised me to wait three months before trying again. At that point, he said, my odds of miscarriage would be the same as for any other expectant mother: one in six. The possibility of trying for another baby began to weigh heavily on my mind. I was 39: it felt like time was running out. And then, there was this devouring emptiness inside of me - “a hole in my gut the size of Manhattan,” I described it. I believed that having a healthy baby would help to fill that hole. Perhaps it would have.
Grieving
“It’s as if my soul is being stretched to accept what before was impossible.”
Eight days after my D&E, I wrote in my journal: “I told my parents almost a week ago, ‘I always thought grieving meant crying. I didn’t realize it meant hurting.’ Even then, I didn’t realize it also meant anger, dimness and confusion, doubt, mistrust, depression.”
At first, the grief was overwhelming. I spent every moment on the verge of tears. . . .
Between 2005 and 2008, I lost four tiny babies to miscarriage. In an effort to help others who may be experiencing similar losses, I want to share the story of that journey. If you click on the title above, and then follow the “Next in Miscarriage Journey” links at the bottom of each post, you can read through my story sequentially.