The Comfort of A People
(by Kareen Morrison)
“I’m really sorry, but there isn’t a heartbeat anymore. You can get cleaned up and go see your doctor in her office.”
The sonographer had just broken the news to me about my second official miscarriage, and I was absolutely devastated. These moments always seemed so final…because they were. It was like a gavel had been dropped, and I had been sentenced to yet another period of deep mourning. As I walked to the doctor’s office, I was readying myself to hear about next steps. This time, I was prepared to undergo the D&C. It would be much easier emotionally than trying to have another natural miscarriage at home, which could go on for weeks.
After I left the building, I had to figure out how to break the news to my partner. I was starting to feel like I was letting him down, like he was going to be stuck with a woman who couldn’t give him the child we both wanted so much and would talk about almost daily. When we finally spoke, he was the one who told me that, despite what had just occurred, he was convinced that we were inching closer to having a successful pregnancy. I desperately wanted to believe what he was saying. Later that night, I called my mom to tell her my sad news. I would leave it to her to share it with my dad. My mother had successfully given birth to four children without any complications. Although she had never experienced loss, I felt that she grieved for me as if she had.