It’s getting to the point where I need to tell people about what happened.
I told my family on Monday. Himself told his folks today.
My friends, however, are another story. Some are wonderful. Some aren’t – not because they don’t care but just because miscarriage is such dangerous emotional territory. Anything to do with death is tricky but miscarriage is such an intangible type of bereavement.
So why tell people?
With each successive pregnancy and miscarriage, we’ve told fewer and fewer people (except when drunk). Fourth time round, I can’t bear the burden of keeping my loss a secret. It’s going to be a while before I can put on my armour and face the world again. I’m incapable of putting on a brave face anymore. I feel vulnerable and isolated and I desperately need some support. If I could surgically attach myself to Himself right now, I probably…
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