The Surprising Rage

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What caught me off guard during my second miscarriage was the intense feelings of hatred that surfaced within me. I’d never considered myself a person filled with anger or jealousy, but after losing that tiny, fragile life, I found myself consumed by a dark, raging fury. It was as if my heart had been replaced with something fierce and savage, and my anger quickly honed in on one specific group: pregnant women.

I wished them ill. I didn’t want their pregnancies to go well, didn’t want to see their joy. I felt a deep resentment watching their partners help them out of cars, their round bellies, rosy cheeks, and those silly maxi dresses. I longed for them to stumble, to spill their decaf coffees all over their oblivious husbands. I wanted someone else to share in my misery—someone else to be a miserable failure like me.

This new version of myself was unrecognizable. Alone, I could keep it together, lose myself in a book or a movie, but around others, I felt like an exposed wound, terrified of my own feelings. My emotions were so raw that any act of kindness could trigger an eruption. I had never experienced such powerful feelings that I couldn’t hide them. The one thing I had always despised was losing control of my emotions. I wanted everyone to see me as strong and fine, and instead, I was drowning in self-hatred and vulnerability.

In my mind, I was at war with myself. The hateful voice would scream, “I hate everyone who is happy! Why doesn’t anyone else feel this pain?” Meanwhile, the rational voice would try to point out that many people were suffering far worse than I was. And then the guilty voice would chime in, reminding me how much more painful it must be to lose a child already born. But the hateful voice was relentless, often drowning out the others.

For a long time, it felt like the hateful voice was winning. Healing didn’t happen because I was strong or wise. It happened because I eventually experienced a healthy pregnancy that blessed me with children. I got lucky, and I know that not everyone does. Before that, I returned to my normal life after the miscarriages, but inside, I was still shattered. I was sure I would have found my way back to strength eventually, but it would have taken time.

Now that I’m one of the fortunate ones, I genuinely want to reach out to those who are struggling as I once did. I understand your pain, and I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. It’s okay to feel anger and resentment. Life can be incredibly tough, and if you need to hate everyone for a while, that’s valid. Believe me, you are stronger than you think.

If you’re in need of resources, check out this excellent guide for pregnancy and home insemination. And, if you’re interested in learning more about home insemination kits, the Cryobaby Home Intracervical Insemination Kit is a great option. For more about privacy, take a look at our privacy policy.

In summary, it’s normal to feel lost and angry during tough times, especially after a loss. Healing is a journey that can take unexpected turns, and it’s okay to reach out for help along the way.