Mr. Curran

Pregnant: such a strange word to me now. My wife first told me she was pregnant a year and a half ago. The news was followed with joyous tears and excited dreaming. “Well that was easy” I even said. Getting pregnant was a breeze, and I assumed that was how pregnancy would be as well. A breeze - simple and easy. Then came the cramping, the bleeding, the having no idea what to say. Miscarriage. What do you even tell your wife? Words fail and fall to the floor like ash. They seem to have no weight at all.

Positivity helped. Statistics helped. Traveling to Europe helped. Knowing we could get pregnant helped. It was all going to be ok because we had the right attitude and drive.

Pregnancy did come again. And it looked, felt, and appeared to be awesome. We actually made it to our first appointment. And that was the worst of it. What do say on the car ride home? The midwife sees an embryo but no heart beat and the machines can’t tell you enough. The statistics that once provided hope are now a slap in the face. Positivity runs to ash. Words seem even less useful and the seven days till a return appointment feel endless.

The next appointment seems to be a miracle. Technicians use more powerful machines and find a viable embryo. Heartbeat and all. You say a lot on that car ride home. Words suddenly have weight again. Weeks pass so you must now be in the clear.

Then the cramping again. The bleeding again. The meaninglessness of words again. Doubt from the first miscarriage looks a lot more like belief after the second. Statistics no longer help. Stories people share make you angry because they’ve seen less pain. Stories of deeper loss leave you guilty for feeling any pain at all. You give up on listening to anyone else who says they understand. You walk through a darkness that casts its own shadows and hide that from anyone who asks - especially your wife.

And then she is pregnant again. That word is so strange to me now. It’s original meaning is lost forever probably. It now stings and brings more fears than joys, more anxiety than praise. You hide your heart in the shadowlands of doubt with hopes of it never getting hurt again. [...] more in comment...