Why I don’t talk about it.

A few weeks ago a friend asked me about my miscarriage.  I can’t remember if she asked why I don’t talk about it, or why I don’t seem preoccupied by it, but either way, it got me thinking some serious shower thoughts that evening about why it is I don’t tell very many people that it happened, or bring it into very many conversations.  But given that it’s Good Friday and the culmination of the season of Lent, it seemed especially appropriate, since Lent kind of played a role.

I realized there were and are two main reasons, with one kind of in the middle.  Picture third grade Venn Diagrams… I knew I’d use that elementary school knowledge some day!

I think I thought there were more reasons.  Hence those extra bullets filled with confusion. 😂🤷‍♀️

I Don’t Want To

I have never been a big advertiser.  When I do things, I like to do them under the radar in case they don’t work out.  I think initially after miscarrying, it felt like a failure.  Whether I had failed or my body had failed, or what.  It was kind of like if I took my driver’s test and failed the first time, I would have been content to carry on with no one being any the wiser.  It felt like a weird feeling of shame that I had “attempted” something and it didn’t work out.  Even if it was nothing like that.  Because it’s not a failure on any part.  It just isn’t meant to be, and it happens so much more than any of us even realize.

It’s A Conversational Dead End

This is the pesky one in the middle of the Venn Diagram.  No matter how you spin it, whether you like to talk about it or it comes up naturally and you don’t feel like lying about it, or people who do know ask you about it… it’s kind of a conversational dead end.  There isn’t really a graceful way to bow out of that conversation and change subjects without looking overly sensitive or insensitive.  So, even though I love to chat, I don’t like to knowingly back people into a cul de sac of awkward. 😂

That and, I still wanted people to tell me when they got pregnant.  I don’t want anyone to ever think that my having a miscarriage means I will freak out or be any less happy about someone else’s blessing.  Never.  I still love babies even if they aren’t mine, guys 😂😍

I Don’t Need To

Cut to me a year-ish later.  I was still just kind of waiting for something to happen.  I had been to the doctor, tried a few things, had a chemical pregnancy, then a month or two later we were wrapped up in selling our house and moving back east.  After we got back, Anthony started his job and we were living in a hotel, and suddenly Ash Wednesday was upon us.

Normally I give things up for Lent.  Be it Starbucks or junk food or whatever.  This year I was going to try for the 40 days to not dwell on the fact that I had miscarried and still wasn’t pregnant again yet.


At first it felt kind of unnatural, because it was something that was on my mind literally every single time I went to the bathroom.  It’s hard to “just don’t think about” trying to get pregnant when it felt like your sole mission in life for the better part of a year.

I won’t say I heard God’s voice, because I didn’t, I don’t think.  But a word popped into my head.  Right into the front of my mind, and it was just a very simple but very clear, “trust.”  And at that moment I decided instead of necessarily giving up thinking about getting pregnant for Lent, I would try and learn to trust that everything happens for a reason, and that there is a plan for all of us, regardless of my particular feelings about said plan.

Soon enough after that, things sort of started to make sense.  If I had had that baby, he or she would have been three months old at the time of our ridiculous move across the county.  He or she would have been five and six months old either living in a hotel during the business week with a very non-routine two months, or I would have had to stay in CT with him or her while Anthony was going through the first two grueling months of his job.  And it was a hard two months, looking back.  Hell, even during.  It was just a really rough transition, and I do think we kind of needed each other during that.  Not to mention, if I had gotten pregnant anytime in the months after the miscarriage, well, I don’t even want to know what kind of effects that stress would have had on a developing baby, let alone the physical stress of moving into our home a couple weeks ago.  In fact we probably would have had to hire help.  And I’m sure we all know how yours truly, stingy Mindy feels about hiring people to do what she can do herself for free. 💁‍♀️


Anyway, here we are at Good Friday.  The last weekend of Lent, and I just find myself feeling really thankful.  For everything.  For the miscarriage, for the chemical pregnancy, for every single blessing we have received in the last few months, (job opportunity closer to family, a home we are in love with) let alone over the last several years.  There is something to be said for trusting God with His plan.  For just letting that current carry you rather than you constantly trying to swim against it because you think you know better.

It is most certainly not easy to hand over the reigns of your life, especially for someone with a control problem, like me.  But at the same time, there is something comforting about knowing that someone else is in control. 🙏

Happy Good Friday & Easter weekend, everyone! 💕

2 thoughts on “Why I don’t talk about it.

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