[Trigger warning: This essay discusses one woman's journey with miscarriage.]
I'll never forget Mother's Day weekend in 2017 when I found out I was pregnant for a second time. For four additional weeks, I silently celebrated the good news (along with my husband, close family and a few friends). I felt amazing. My son, who had just turned 2 years old, was going to be a big brother.
Although it was early on in the pregnancy, I found and bought the perfect big brother shirt for him. I was excited for all of the pregnancy reveals, ultrasounds, shopping and nursery planning that would join me for the next nine months. For those few weeks, I was on cloud nine.
But, then everything changed.
It was like any other Monday— I was working and taking a quick break for lunch. Something about that day was different, however, I just didn't feel pregnant. Was I overreacting? Maybe. Even though I was not having the common miscarriage symptoms like the bleeding or the cramping, I still had a gut feeling that something was wrong. And I was right.
That was the day I found out I was miscarrying my baby at nine weeks. I'll never forget the ultrasound. There was no little flicker of a heartbeat and...