Don't worry; be happy :)

“Difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations.” I see this picture in the bathroom of my fertility clinic and find it both odd and painfully cruel. You see, I don’t agree with it. I don’t think I needed to suffer in order to grow my family I don’t think there “was a reason” I had to have a miscarriage. Why did I need to go through a pain so unimaginably hard and isolating.

I hate when people call me strong because I am not. I don’t want to be strong and I hate that I just need to keep pushing; pushing through heartache year after year. The road to growing my family has hardened me and there are some days I wish I could go back. Go back to the innocence and overall joy that came with thinking of what my family would look like one day.

I’ve always been a glass half full gal. Trying to find any a glimmer of hope in any situation. Even on my worst days I’ve been able to see some light, but for the first time in my life I can’t.

On Friday May 12th, I was heading with 3 girlfriends to see Taylor Swift. I’ve been one of Taylor’s biggest fans since I was 15, her music always knowing how to heal parts of me I didn’t know needed it. I was over the moon for many reasons for May 12th. Firstly, it was my 31st birthday and I could not think of a better way to spend my birthday than with my best friends singing our hearts out to our favorite singer. Secondly, I was 7 weeks 6 days pregnant with my first child, our IVF miracle. I had graduated from my fertility clinic the day before, and had seen multiple strong heartbeat ultrasounds. It was going to be my first Mother’s Day weekend.

As I drove to the concert, I felt a gush of blood, immediately my face white with horror. I tried not to panic as I was driving and I wasn’t 100% what was happening. As we made one way into the stadium, I knew something was terribly wrong. I immediately went to the bathroom where I was actively losing massive clots. I cleaned myself up best I could and went to our seats. Within the next 30 minutes, the most intense pain I’ve ever felt started. I started to sob uncontrollably, as I knew I had to leave the concert and head to the Emergency Room. At 7pm, I left the concert, knowing I was losing my baby. I cried the whole way to the hospital and asking myself why was God doing this to me on my birthday. Why couldn’t God let me keep my baby I had worked so hard to get pregnant, spending 2 years being poked, prodded and doing every treatment under the sun. This was our only normal embryo. She was perfect.

We waited for the doctor to come in but I knew what he was going to say before he spoke. I spent the night actively having a miscarriage. The baby that my husband and I prayed so hard for, gone. I spent my birthday crying so hard I was seeing stars. I wept for the future I had just lost, the dreams I had for this little girl. A pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

We left the hospital at 5am on Saturday, and I was no longer pregnant. The words still burn as I write them. I can’t help but feel like God stood me up, watching my friends who stayed at the concert post stories of Taylor singing. I should have been there singing with them. I should still be pregnant, I should be celebrating my birthday.