“There is, I am convinced, no picture that conveys in all its dreadfulness, a vision of sorrow, despairing, remediless, supreme.  If I could paint such a picture, the canvas would show only a woman looking down at her empty arms.” Emily Bronte

Today is the day that our baby should have been born.

I am the only one who remembers.

When you miscarry, people don’t tell you that your heart will continue to bleed, even though it was a 8 week old unborn child. It does. They don’t tell you that you will see babies close to the age that yours would have been and it will make you nauseous. It will. That every conversation including a “when you have kids” statement is painful. Because there is no when. There should be a child here already.

Miscarriage is a strange thing–people don’t want to talk about it, and if they do, what they do say is sometimes unintentionally insensitive.

So here are some responses to things people have actually said to me over the past nine months:

• “You’re young, you can have another child.”

I wanted this child. The possibility of having another one doesn’t replace the one that I lost.

• “This was God’s will.”

Believing that doesn’t mean that I didn’t lay there in bed, begging him to make this baby not leave my body when the told me that I might miscarry. And then consequently begging him to make the mass that appeared in my uterus after the baby died not be cancer, and for it to go away ASAP.

• “It’s for the best since the baby wasn’t planned.”

That means nothing. We were making plans as soon as we found out. Many children are unplanned, and the world would not be the same without them.

• “Did you know that a D&C is actually an abortion?”

I know it’s the same procedure, but I did NOT choose this. I carried my dead baby for two weeks before it became necessary to do a D&C.

• “At least you know you can get pregnant now.”

And now I also know how horrible it is to have morning sickness and feel pregnant for a month post D&C even though was no baby anymore.

• “It’s just like having bad menstrual cramps, right? So at least it’s not that bad.”

No. I had a D&C, and then had contractions for three days because they didn’t get everything out. And passed the rest of the pregnancy at home without pain medication because I didn’t know what was happening. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It hurt more than anything that has every happened to me.

• “At least now you won’t be pregnant if you get that new job.”

I did end up getting the new job. But I would have rather had the baby.

The pain that has come along with the miscarriage has been so great that it’s hard to put into words. It’s the kind of grief that can make you feel like you are going to throw up, and your heart actually hurts. I don’t think that’s uncommon. It makes some people want to get pregnant again quickly, but it’s made me want to try getting pregnant less. I just want the baby who was taken from me so quickly. The one who should have been born today.