What truly astonished me about myself during my second miscarriage was the depth of my own hatred. I had never considered myself a person prone to anger or resentment. Yet, when I lost that fragile, hopeful spark of life, it was replaced by a seething rage. My feelings morphed into something monstrous, targeting a very specific group: expectant mothers.
I found myself wishing their pregnancies would falter. I wanted them to feel the anguish I endured. I loathed watching their partners help them out of cars, resented their swollen bellies and glowing cheeks, and despised their trendy maxi dresses and decaf lattes. I wished for them to stumble, spilling their drinks on their oblivious husbands, wanting someone to share in my misery—a fellow failure. I became someone I hardly recognized, burying my once-kind self deep within.
Emerging from my darkness, I struggled to navigate the world around me. Alone, I managed to cope, losing myself in books or films. But in social situations, I felt raw and exposed, like an open wound. I had never experienced emotions so intense that they threatened to erupt with the slightest provocation. A kind word or simple gesture could send me spiraling.
I grappled with a loss of control, and that was something I had always despised. I wanted to project an image of being okay—strong and composed. In addition to loathing others, I harbored a fierce hatred for myself. I despised my vulnerability and my anger toward the world.
Inside my mind, conflicting voices battled for dominance. The exchanges were relentless:
Hateful Voice: I can’t stand anyone who’s happy. Why can’t they feel my pain?
Rational Voice: There are countless individuals who suffer far worse than you.
Guilty Voice: Remember, some have lost children they loved deeply. What you’re feeling is valid, but you can try again.
Hateful Voice: I don’t care! I’m just so incredibly miserable.
For a time, the Hateful Voice reigned supreme. It took a while for the Rational and Guilty Voices to gain traction. I wish I could say they led me back to my former self, guiding me through the darkness with reasoning and goodness.
But that’s not how it happened.
I am healed now, thankfully, but I didn’t achieve that alone or solely with the support of friends and family. My journey back from despair is tied to the serendipity of finally having a healthy pregnancy, resulting in the joy of my children. I got lucky—very lucky. Without that, I often wonder where I would be today. Although I returned to my everyday life after my miscarriages, I did so with a facade of normalcy while still feeling shattered inside.
To those women experiencing similar pain, I want you to know that I genuinely understand your suffering. I empathize with your anger and despair. It’s okay to feel that way; what you’re going through is incredibly difficult. Anyone who claims otherwise isn’t being honest. Sometimes, life is just hard, and you will get through this because you possess a strength beyond what you realize.
For more insights into the experience of loss and the journey of parenthood, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination. And if you’re curious about at-home options, visit Make a Mom for comprehensive information on the process. You can also explore our other blog post to keep informed about related topics.
In summary, navigating the complex emotions following a miscarriage can often lead to overwhelming feelings of anger and hatred, particularly towards those who seem to move forward effortlessly. Recognizing and validating these feelings is crucial to healing, and while support from others is important, personal experiences often play a significant role in finding peace and happiness again.