Thirteen years ago I turned 21. I also started dating someone. At the time I thought he was pretty special & the feeling was mutual. We had a great time together, and of course, one thing led to another.
About a year & a half into our relationship, I got “the flu”. As any grown woman knows, grown women don’t get “the flu” unexpectedly for a few weeks unless it isn’t really “the flu”. Yes, I got pregnant.
I was on the pill & I thought we were being careful, but you know, nothing is 100% effective. I never told anyone at the time, not even my boyfriend, though I'm not sure why. I never had to share because I miscarried. I remember being so relieved at the time.
Honestly, I never thought about it much over the years. I mean, this happened over 11 years ago. We broke up a few months later, and although we stayed friends for a while, I met my current husband shortly thereafter.
Every once in a while it crosses my mind, never for very long. Sometimes I think about it more than others. I wonder if I had been more careful & not been in denial & not been drinking so much if I wouldn’t have lost the baby.
Lately I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Like there’s a piece of me missing. I’ve talked to my husband about it a few times, and how different my life would be. I would have had a newborn right when we met, so that wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have my three wonderful children whom I desperately love.
But I would have an 11 year old child right now, and I’d probably be married to someone else. Would my life be better? I don’t know. It would be different. I wouldn’t have gone to grad school because I would’ve been having a baby.
A friend of mine recently miscarried. She shared a blog post from a previous miscarriage too, and how if “that” hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have “the child she had after the miscarriage”.
Sometimes, I just have to keep reminding myself of that. And sometimes, I just need to share what I’m going through too.