Last night I got to have champagne and sushi. This morning I had a big cup of coffee! After my first two miscarriages, I didn’t enjoy being able to eat sushi or drink champagne, even though I was allowed to again. It reminded me of the very fact that I was no longer pregnant. Somehow, and for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way this time. I enjoyed every single slippery bite of sashimi, and I relished every bubbly sip of champagne. This morning I spent five minutes smelling the coffee before swishing and swirling it around my mouth. They say third time’s a charm. Apparently not. The third time was the opposite of charming. It felt like being stabbed in the back more than it did the heart. It felt like the world was playing some nasty trick on us, and soon I would wake up, and realize it was a cruel and silly dream. I remember saying to my husband Scott at the doctor’s office, “when am I going to wake up? When am I going to wake up?”. I cried much less the third time. It was as if the sadness and devastation had transformed into anger, confusion, and betrayal. Why was this happening? Why was the world doing this to us? Of course, I know that the world wasn’t in fact “doing” anything to us. We try every day to understand so much of life’s mystery. We crave certainty and grasp for control. I know I do – or did – perhaps even more so than others. I love plans, and to-do lists, I love schedules and having absolutely everything in the calendar, from work meetings to lunch dates to poop times. Ok just kidding, I don’t put my poop schedule in my calendar, but you get my drift. Well apparently, I can’t schedule everything. I can’t schedule when I’ll get pregnant and I for sure can’t schedule when I’ll deliver, or not deliver the baby. After our second miscarriage, Scott and I did every test under the sun to understand what was happening. Normal, healthy, normal, perfect, great, healthy, normal, perfect, normal normal normal. Surely getting tested would give me some answers. Not always. So, with all of this, I’ve learned a few things over the last eight months. I’d love to share these words of comfort for miscarriage. I’m not particularly happy with how I had to learn these lessons, nevertheless, I’m happy I learned them. 1. It’s ok to plan, but somewhere in the plan, remember to include “universe comes and changes whole plan” As I said, I love to plan. Some people would perhaps even call me type A, but I don’t think I’d go that far. Perhaps type B+. But yes, I love to know what’s coming next; what the future is going to look like. I remember asking my now-husband-then-boyfriend at age 25 if we can start trying for kids at age twenty-seven and a half. Of course, his facial expression said “really? Are you kidding me? You’re already planning our family? I need to run for the hills!!” but of course, his love for me emerged through the fog of fear and he just simply replied. “ok baby”. So of course, you can imagine how intensely terrifying it is to all of a sudden, in your world of plans and schedules, have no idea what’s going to happen or when. Yes, we started trying at twenty-seven and a half, according to our ‘plan’. Yes, we got pregnant at twenty-seven and a half, according to our ‘plan’. I’m now twenty-eight and a half and we’ve had three pregnancies and no baby. What happened? Well, it appears the universe had a plan of its own, and no, the universe did not consult me about MY plan to ensure we were on the same page. It just went ahead! And this wasn’t a one-time thing. It’s done it before, and it will do it again. And maybe one day I will understand exactly why. And maybe I won’t. But it is what it is, and I’m learning to accept, and dare I say, even trust the process. Some things are simply incomprehensible. Trying to comprehend the incomprehensible will leave you with nothing more than a throbbing headache. And so, the last eight months have bought me down a notch – perhaps from a B+ to a C-. I stop trying to plan every minute of every day. Ok it’s true, I’ve already booked almost every restaurant for every night of our Hawaii vacation which is a whole month away (don’t tell my Scott. He’ll freak!) so maybe I do still love to plan. Maybe a better way of saying it is that I do still plan every minute of my life but – and this is an important ‘but’ – I don’t clench onto those plans as if they are the be all and end all. I am prepared, and completely comfortable with the fact that the universe sometimes has a plan of its own, a plan that will step all over mine. And that’s ok. Plan, plan, plan, plan, plan… and then be flexible. 2. No, it was not ‘X’ My first pregnancy was full of joy, excitement, love, laughter. Maybe every now and then, a glimpse of fear would creep in, but it would very quickly fade into the background as I begun to envision the color of our nursery and what kind of stroller we would buy. Of course, I stopped eating sashimi and drinking alcohol, but other than that, life didn’t change too much. I flew on planes, I exercised, I drank my morning coffee. And of course, I later blamed all of these things for my loss. Our logic tells us that we didn’t do anything wrong, but it feels impossible to believe. What if I hadn’t done that barre class? What if I didn’t take that flight or drink that coffee? Maybe my baby would

Today is my birthday. My feelings and emotions swirl around me like the ocean during a storm. It has been a big year! This time last year, I was engaged to the love of life. Today, I am married to him. So yes, there was a wedding, and all of the amazing parties surrounding it. There was also the honeymoon, which was perhaps the most spectacular month of our lives. And then, shortly after the honeymoon, there were those two beautiful pink lines on the stick that every longing mother dreams of. We were pregnant! I remember feeling like it had all come a little bit too easy; like it was all a little bit too good to be true. The man of my dreams, the fair-tale wedding, the honeymoon of a lifetime. And now this? Really?! I felt like the luckiest woman on earth! In fact, I still do for so many reasons. But not this one. Sadly, six weeks later, we lost our little bubba and it was the most devastating day I have ever experienced. I have lost many people in my life, but my heart has never hurt as much as it hurt on that day. Just two months earlier, Scott stood beside me, his hand holding mine, and shared his personally crafted vows. He promised that we would stand by each other through our joys and our sorrows; that we would share our dreams and our anxieties. He promised to love me unconditionally and that in his love, he would provide a safe and loving shelter, forever. Who knew how quickly those vows would be tested? Who knew how deeply important those vows would become? Scott delivered on everything he promised, plus more, and I have never felt so lucky or so loved. Two months later on Christmas Eve, exactly one year after Scott proposed, we found ourselves in a position as equally exciting as the year prior. We were pregnant again! The crazy waves of emotion swirling around my stomach almost bought that turkey right back up! The happiness, the worry, the excitement, the anxiety. I went to bed that night hugging joy but being spooned by fear. Sadly, at eight weeks after seeing a beautifully healthy heart beat, we lost our second baby. I have absolutely no words to describe what was felt that day. However, it is my birthday, and this is not a story of loss. It is a story of love. It is a story of love for my husband who has been the most amazing gift to my life. It is a story of love to our babies, who I may not get to meet in this lifetime, but who I will forever hold in my heart. It is a story of love to the friends and family who replenished my world with light when it suddenly turned to darkness. It is a story of love for every other women who has, is, or will one day go through the loss of an unborn child. I cannot take away the pain, but I can share my love. And I do. It is also a story of hope. It is a story of hope for the day when we get to carry home our beautifully healthy baby. It is a story of hope for a future where there is greater medical understanding and support . It is a story of hope for a society that does not silence the topic, but instead, offers their love. Miscarriage is still a largely taboo topic, and many women grieve in silence. For some, that may be a choice, and I respect that entirely. But for some, it is not a choice. It is something driven by shame, and guilt, and fear. It is something driven by a distorted idea that we should not talk about it. This idea is not only wrong, but it is dangerous. It is dangerous because it leaves too many women, and men, isolated in their darkness. It leaves them alone with their often distorted thoughts and emotions. It leaves them empty. We are told not to tell anyone we are pregnant until twelve weeks in case something goes wrong. But does that not also insinuate that if something goes wrong, we should not tell anyone? Why? When, or when not to tell others about a pregnancy is entirely an individual choice. I 100% respect that. But I also believe we need to lift the taboo on something that one quarter of couples will go through; miscarriage. When I left my first appointment when we saw the tiny beating heart, we left with photos, pamphlets, hope, joy, love and excitement. When I left those appointments after discovering the heart had stopped, we left with nothing. No pamphlets, no leaflets, no joy, no excitement. Nothing. I know I cannot change the world with this post, but for my birthday, I do ask for just one thing; Help lift the silence. That is my birthday wish. If you know someone who has or is going through a miscarriage, be there for them. The grief is deep and it is real, and it is very like that they feel incredibly alone. The loss of an unborn child is just as painful as any other loss. Show your love. Show your support. If you yourself have or are going through a miscarriage, don’t feel that you must suffer in silence. Please, seek support. When you stay silent, you send yourself messages of shame and of guilt. You did nothing wrong. Speak to your family and your close friends. If you feel that you can’t or don’t want, speak to me. Whether I know you or not, I would love to be a source of support for anyone who has or is going through this. Please. Help lift the silence. Thank you for my birthday gift, Katie Xx