Why do we feel scared to talk about fertility issues in public places?
Almost every woman I know has a story to tell. Friends and family who have tried to get pregnant for years, who have miscarried. Again and again. Once, twice, three times.
We are not alone, yet we feel alone.
At what point do we stand up and say, “I’m having trouble getting (staying!) pregnant. I feel worn down and exhausted from months and months of being stuck in the first trimester with nothing to show for it.”
We don’t really talk about it, do we?
I, for one, have never talked about it here on my blog. A huge, giant (!!) part of my life over the past four years that you don’t know about. Because I’ve never had the courage to write about it before.
I’ve often wondered, how many times do I have to miscarry before I feel ready to share it with you? I’ve brushed aside the urge, telling myself that I’ll write about my journey once I have good news, once I make it to the second trimester.
Well, what if I never get to the second trimester again? I’m not saying this looking for reassurance because, quite frankly, neither you nor I can offer any. I may never have another baby again. But we will try and try again because I am willing to do anything to be pregnant again, to give our daughter a sibling, to bring another Spritzer Leyba into this world.
Through all of this, I feel so lucky to have our beautiful daughter and to know know that my body can grow a healthy, beautiful baby. It is possible. I have to hope it will happen again.
Yet I feel so weary and worn down in this journey. Each month, every single time we’ve ever tried, an egg has been fertilized. Yet only once in my life have I been able to stay pregnant. These chemical pregnancies, with a false sense of security as I am pregnant one week but not the next, and miscarriages are mentally and physically exhausting. How many times can we try?
So we are taking a break. For our mental well being, and to give me a rest from the constant morning sickness and hormonal roller-coaster of the last several months.
I will have energy for our daughter. I will have more time for myself, to exercise and eat right and take care of myself.
And each night I will climb into bed and hold fast to my husband and feel grateful for the beautiful life that we have. Because even in the worst of it, life is pretty darn good.
Such a brave post, Carrie! I’m so sorry for the physical and emotional pain and exhaustion this must be for you and David, and I am so glad you are taking a break. I’m thinking of you and so appreciate your sharing your story. Lots of love and light :)
dearest carrie,
you are a beautiful, brave person and I am sending all my love to you! I will keep hoping over here for you and your amazing family, and know that whatever happens, your friends and family will be there for you! hugs.
Hey, Carrie, I just got a chance to look at your posts. I appreciate your openness about this trying and painful situation. Miscarriage has long been a hush-hush topic, and so difficult to know how to respond when my heart goes out to you, but I’m not sure what to say. With this public sharing, it looks like you are taking healthy steps to releasing dashed expectations and healing. I pray for you and David to come to a place of complete ease and grace. Blessings on you for the awesome mother you have shown yourself to be.
Much love. XXXOOO
I am starting to understand what you have been going through. It is so emotional. I wish you and your family the best.
Love, Aida