After my husband and I started trying to have a baby, I found out I was pregnant right away, before I missed my period. We were ecstatic, knowing how much of a struggle it can be to get pregnant. I remember mentioning to my husband that it was early and miscarriages are common, but I couldn’t help but think I wouldn’t be included in that statistic.
My parents visited around the 5.5-week mark. We told them, knowing that it was early, but if I had a miscarriage, I would talk to them about it anyway. Two days after sharing the news, I woke up thinking I was sweaty. I got up and noticed a large pool of blood where I was sleeping. I covered my spot with the blanket, went to the washroom, and shut the door while my husband continued to sleep.
I knew I miscarried, without a doubt, given the amount of blood. I jumped in the shower, passed clots, and cleaned up, allowing myself to cry, but not for long. I got dressed, laid down next to my husband, and told him, “I just had a miscarriage.” These were the hardest words I’ve ever had to say to him.
We shared a quiet moment together and went on about our day. It took me a while to get the words out to my mom, and shared the news with my dad when we went for a run later that morning.
Waiting on Sunrise 