On Autumn and Grief
It seems as though most of my friends on social media are eager for Fall. I’ve seen lots of talk regarding pumpkin spice lattes, turtleneck sweaters, boots, and changing leaves. I know I won’t see any Autumn leaves in Arizona, but I’m certainly praying that the coming months bring a significant drop in temperature. I’m excited about that prospect.
Overall, though, Fall is a tough time for me.
Don’t get me wrong—I love hot drinks and cardigans and Halloween parties. I’m an October baby, too, so I celebrate a birthday in the Fall. But October is also National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. Many years ago, I lost a pregnancy mid-October.
Another miscarriage would follow months later.
Losing two pregnancies made me a member of a very morbid club—women who know that a positive pregnancy test doesn’t necessarily prelude a healthy baby. And, as I approach my mid-thirties, I am becoming a member of a more exclusive, terrible club. I’m a woman whose infertility struggle does not have a happy ending.
When you have a miscarriage, you hear a lot of platitudes, particularly ones about God’s will and fate and “if it’s meant to be, it will be”. These sayings used to absolutely enrage me but now, years removed, I think maybe there’s a bit of truth to them after all.
Six months ago, I didn’t know that my current city of residence even existed. My misfortunes and my victories have led me here, thrust me into an alien and wonderful environment. I can’t help but think maybe I’m here for a reason. Maybe the things I write—including this blog—will help another woman who feels completely and utterly alone.
My life has been shaped by the loss of my pregnancies, but it is, nevertheless, a wonderful life. Still, every Fall, I think about the children I carried only briefly and what could have been.
My thoughts are with the women who are also members of these terrible clubs. We’ll take life one day at a time. We’ll get through this.