After my first miscarriage, I thought the only thing that would heal me would be to fall pregnant again.
Then, I did fall pregnant again. But, the memory of miscarriage did not disappear. If anything, it only magnified.
After my second miscarriage, I thought the only thing that would heal me would be to NOT fall pregnant again.
We did not rule out the possibility of having a bigger family, but I needed some time to let my body recover.
It was a relief to press pause on the monthly cycle of trying to get pregnant, the two-week wait to find out if we passed the pee-on-a-stick test. The heavy heart when we did not, the excitement when we did; and the dread that followed when I remembered that my last pregnancy miscarried and there was a 60% chance that this one would too.
I enjoyed the freedom of not trying, not knowing, not caring.
Weeks turned into months, months turned into a year, a year turned into almost two, and at some point along the way, I stopped thinking about getting pregnant again at all.
I enjoyed making plans, knowing I could commit to them. I turned 40 and raised many glasses of champagne to the next decade. I ate pate, soft cheese and runny eggs; and I booked trips away knowing I would be able to take them.
We got on with our lives, released from the chains of trying, of knowing, of caring.
Miscarriage, although will never be completely free from my thoughts, is no longer consuming them.
Until, someone asks when we will try again. Or, someone else comments that children need a sibling. Or, our son wants to know where his little brother or sister is. Then, it all simmers to the surface once more and our safe little bubble of happy bursts.
It seems everyone wants to know what our decision is.
Will knowing our decision make it easier for us, or easier for them?
Maybe there is no big decision to make, no heart wrenching conversation to have, nor any metaphorical door to close.
Maybe it just is what it is. We have moved on to a brighter place without ceremony or parade.
Don’t be sad because you think we have given up on the dream of a bigger family, be happy we found a way to let it go.