Truth Telling

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Truth Telling

I’m so happy. Today is my last day of Heparin. Filling a syringe and then injecting it is annoying. Lovenox is so much simpler.

These aren’t words I ever thought I’d say. I almost cried the first few times I injected Lovenox into my stomach fat. Now I’m a prescription drug shooting pro with anticoagulant preferences.

The things you’re able to do to keep you and your unborn child alive…pretty incredible. And I’m far from alone in this. So many women have walked, are walking and will walk in these very shoes. But it seems you don’t hear about it unless you are that woman or you’re close enough to that woman to know. The silence isn’t unreasonable. Not every woman cares to publicize her stuff. And perhaps it’s best that some of us not know this stuff until it’s our turn–if we knew beforehand, we may not try to get pregnant and birth amazing new life into the world (coz of course my girl is already amazing!).

Yet I wonder if we do each other a disservice by not creating a more complex picture of pregnancy, one that moves far beyond the glow, the thick long hair, the prego fashion Pinterest boards, and other pregnancy beauty markers.

I don’t plan to start a “pregnancy is hard” campaign. I do plan to be honest with my daughter, though. At some point, when she’s old enough to get it, I’ll start telling her the truth…that she could have had an older sibling, that her journey into the world had it’s fair share of drama, that being a woman doesn’t guarantee birthing children, that birthing children is an incredible honor but not a badge to be flaunted or a badge to wrap your complete identity around…

And I’ll speak up about other women in our family whose journeys have been bittersweet. It may sound crazy but one of the best things another woman did for me when I told her about my miscarriage was point out other women I know who’ve miscarried. Sometimes you need to know that you’re not the only one.

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