So let’s be real. It’s taboo for women (especially women of color) to discuss certain topics, especially anything pertaining to the body: periods, sex, desire, marriage, sexuality, rape and our BODIES. I’m here to say “fuck that.” I’m exhausted by a world that tells me to keep silent about topics that are critical to my survival and healing.
So here’s a new story most of y’all don’t know: I’ve had two miscarriages this year. WE had two miscarriages this year. No, I am not writing for “I’m sorry,” or “Are you ok?” In fact, that’s the last thing I wish to hear. Instead, I write to express that no matter what image you carry of me or other women in your life, we are all carrying stories & trauma linked to our bodies and sometimes being a “strong Black woman” is not enough.
The first happened back in February. We tried and got pregnant the first time around! We were elated and though our relationship was new, we were so thrilled and ready. A week later, after several doctor visits, I began bleeding more than one should. Within a week the doctor told me I had an early miscarriage (I was about 4 weeks along) and that within a few months we could try again. Try again? All I wanted to know was why it happened and my answer: “It happens to most women. And they go on to have healthy pregnancies.” Great. That helps. I wanted to be told it was normal and I would be seeing a healthy version of ourselves in 8 months.
We were careful after that, but happened to get pregnant again, a week before James’ 26th birthday. Scared, nervous and hopeful, we were extra careful; a week later, I became incredibly exhausted, emotional and the bleeding started again. My spirit knew it was coming, I woke up that morning weeping and expressing “I don’t want to go to work today. I don’t know why. I just don’t want to go.” But I went. And it began a few hours later. My second miscarriage that is…
When I tell you I didn’t want to live anymore, I mean it.
Somewhere I had learned that my womanhood was dependent upon my ability to create and carry life (internalized patriarchy racism, etc. etc., yes). The entire summer was an internal battle: Am I woman enough? What did I do wrong? Am I ever going to be able to have children? Am I paying for the sins of my family? Am I paying for my own sins? Am I really ready for the next journey in life? I’m approaching 30, is that why? I must not be healthy enough. I need to take more vitamins. I need to run more. That’s it. I was looking for any reason to justify it.
We loved our children. We still love our children. We named them: Nia & James Jr. And we still want to try again. Yes, according to the doctors I am still healthy & there was nothing I could have done. But that’s hard to accept when even in a week’s time, we both started planning for a new addition to the family, just to be told they’re gone.
No, I did not complete my master’s thesis. Yes, I neglected the supporters of my journey. And my students. And my friends. And my bills at times. And all my other responsibilities. Yes, I neglected my family. Yes, I let down my “customers” who were waiting on a copy of ‘Hope Dealers.’ Yes, I neglected work. Yes, I cried. A LOT. In fact, I wept. Often. And occasionally still do. I really want to be a mother. A great one.
I know this post is complex. I know that trans women or women who choose to not have children, women who are told they cannot have children, women who are not well enough to have children, young moms, etc. go through all this and more. I hear you, see you and feel you. I love you.
What we heard from family “maybe it’s meant to be. The timing must be wrong.” Others, just offered to be there if I needed them (the best type of support one can offer in a time like this). My closest friends offered to pull out all stops: bring me food, spend time, etc. While I was longing for connection during these times, I was a shell of myself.
My partner? Amazing. James did all he could to love me and support me through, though he was also processing his love and pain. I think he still is. And I wish I could help him heal too, but we all have our own journeys with our higher self and our Gods, Goddesses, Universe, or absence of a deity.
I say all this to say, if this story is familiar to you, I am deeply sorry for your loss. I love you and I have hope that your joy will come in many forms. While we have decided to wait and consult a doctor before moving forward and trying again, in the future we will also consider adopting or being foster parents. So much love we have to give, and I know without a shadow of a doubt we will be great parents.
In the meantime, we continue to chase our dreams so our future children will know not only how much they mean to us, but how salient their dreams are: we will show them by example what it means to chase their dreams.
Sending love & healing. Thanks for reading. More to come in the future as I heal & grow.