When I experienced a miscarriage in 2007, it was a painful chapter that I felt I had to close without discussing it. I remember leaving the doctor’s office after losing the baby, determined to move on. Despite this, I knew that talking about it made others uncomfortable, so I chose silence. Recently, however, conversations around miscarriage have become more common, and I’ve discovered that many people I know have faced similar heartache—especially that moment when the ultrasound technician gives you a telling look. Yet, what often goes unspoken is the anxiety surrounding subsequent pregnancies after such a loss.
When Jake and I found out we were expecting last year, our excitement was palpable. We were eager to start our family. However, I harbored a deep-seated fear that I kept hidden. I struggled to fully embrace the joy of pregnancy because a nagging thought lingered in my mind: what if it happened again? Guilt washed over me for not being entirely thrilled, but I felt it was safer to temper my enthusiasm. Like the old adage goes, I was trying to hope for the best while preparing for the worst.
Each doctor’s visit was a test of my nerves as I anxiously awaited the sound of the fetal Doppler. I would hold my breath, praying for reassurance. If the baby didn’t move, I would drink juice in hopes of feeling a kick. It was a long thirty-eight weeks filled with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. I didn’t express my true feelings to anyone, and the emotional distance I created left me feeling terrible. I kept thinking I should be happy, I should be glowing—but instead, I was filled with apprehension and fear. The idea of enduring another loss was unbearable; I couldn’t face another moment of that look from an ultrasound technician.
In the nursery, I would often find myself standing there, gently rubbing my belly, wishing for the day I could rock my baby to sleep. I would sit in the glider, singing softly, as if to prepare for a reality that might never come. My mind was a whirlwind of terrifying thoughts, and I became my own worst enemy.
During labor, my thoughts were consumed with the same plea: please let everything be OK. I longed to hold a healthy baby boy. When he finally arrived and was placed on my chest, tears streamed down my face—not just from love, but because I felt an overwhelming wave of relief. He was here, and he was perfect.
Months after his birth, I learned that the feelings I had experienced during my pregnancy were normal for women who have endured loss. This realization lifted a heavy weight of guilt from my shoulders. If you resonate with my experience, I hope this brings you some comfort. You are not alone in your feelings.
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Summary
Pregnancy after a miscarriage is often accompanied by complex emotions, including guilt and fear. This article shares a personal narrative about the anxiety of expecting a child after experiencing loss, highlighting the importance of acknowledging these feelings and realizing they are common among many women.