My boyfriend had stomach cancer at the age of 22. And since the,n his cancer has been in and out of remission. In January, he told me he was confident it was back, and after chemo and radiation he said he wasn’t going to fight it this time. He was going to allow to run its course.
The same day we got the news he was cancer-free was the same day we found out we were pregnant. Neither of us had children so this pregnancy was just a breath of fresh air. Because we valued life differently after that cancer scare, we made videos everyday from the moment we found out, until the doctor gave us the news there was no heartbeat.
He told us you could be too early. When he gave us that little sense of hope, I held on to it. I didn’t have any bleeding, no cramping — he scheduled me a d&c for that Friday. I went home and rested, confident that God would deliver a miracle. I got in the prayer line and petition the church for a miracle.
Up until I laid on the operating table, as they told me to count to 10. I believed that God would work a miracle. I woke up to no miracle, and no baby. The miscarriage showed me who my real friends were, it made me question my faith, and it has taken my sense of hope.
Food disgusts me, I don’t sleep without a Benadryl. My therapist keeps saying in order to get over grief you have to keep talking, but I’m just mute. I feel constantly misunderstood. A close friend told me “you were only 10 weeks, pull yourself together”.
The closer I get the due date the sadder become. I keep thinking when will this end? When will I get back to who I am?