I wake very early on this Saturday morning. My husband is working today and his retreat from the bed wakes me. I feel I cannot sleep there without him. I toss and turn a few times to no avail. I see flashes of light coming through our bedroom windows followed by the sweet rumbling of thunder. Our windows, which are normally open, are closed this morning. A fitting response to how we are feeling.

I can’t hear the birds chirping. Are they grieving with us?

I get up to use the restroom and I can hear the pitter patter of rain drops on our roof. Through the bathroom window, daybreak is just beginning. Though cloudy, I still feel my body waking from the impending sun. It’s a primal response. There will be no returning to sleep now.

I look at the array of vitamins and supplements on my bathroom counter.

“Fuck you supplements!” I think to myself.  “You are worth nothing now!”

Expensive supplements I had been taking in order to give this baby the best chance at life, reducing the incidence of neural tube defects and hopefully, a tongue-tie. These supplements contained folate instead of folic acid which I have read is way more effective than folic acid especially if there is some connection with MTHFR. I stare for a moment and wonder if I will take any of them today.

I drink a sip of water and turn quickly away from the sink. “OUCH!”

Round ligament pain. This cuts me pretty deep, not just physically, but emotionally. This pain needs to go away. It’s a useless pain, merely serving as a reminder that this baby is dead and no longer growing. My womb no longer needing to expand to make room. It’s truly a painful reminder of what we have lost and the labor pain I will endure shortly.

One last look in the mirror before retreating to the kitchen.

“You are so ugly,” I tell myself.

I cut my hair off last night and the stylist cut it way too short. It’s awful and compounds my pain. I hate my hair and I hate my life right now. I am giving myself permission to hate myself. I know it won’t last forever.

I make breakfast and sit at the table to write. It seems that’s all I can do right now. Write, write, write. I wondered how much crying I would do today? My husband gives me a kiss, thanks me for making breakfast, and leaves for the day.

It’s quiet in the house. I am enjoying no interruptions by the kids and stare out the window on this cold, rainy day. I can hear a few birds chirping and I think about how tomorrow, the view from this window will be different. We will be blanketed in white snow on Mother’s Day.

Oh no! It’s Mother’s Day. This is going to be a crappy Mother’s Day.


I text my mother-in-law about the boys. I was supposed to teach today and they were going to spend the day with her. Her response was that she wasn’t even home but I could drop the boys off. They would have to be picked up before 5pm. Dropping off the boys wouldn’t have been a big issue but picking them up was too much for me. When people ask how they can help, really, one of the best things someone can do is to just DO. Come get my boys or offer to bring them home. Bring us food or come in and do the dishes.

The thought of dropping them off and picking up was too exhausting so I back out. I need to be catered to right now and to bring the boys over myself, makes me feel guilty. It’s strange but I can’t do it. I spend the rest of the day sulking, wishing I could sulk alone.

 – Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage