Did you know that 10-25% of all clinically recognized pregnancies will end in miscarriage? Does that number seem low to you? Because it does to me. In fact, if I was someone who never experienced a miscarriage I would look at those statistics and think, well that’s never going to happen to me!
Here’s another statistic for you, there are 3 million reported miscarriages in the US a year. Now that number is scary.
Miscarriage is something that is not talked about enough considering how many women it effects. I’m willing to bet you know someone, or maybe a couple of people who have had to deal with the loss of an unborn baby; whether you knew about it or not.
I had an aunt who had a miscarriage. One of my best friends had a miscarriage. When they each went through that loss, both times I said, “I can’t imagine what she’s going through. That’s my worst nightmare.”
Then, on December 2016, my worst nightmare came true.
When my husband and I moved to South Carolina, we were still just dating. Not only that but we had just started dating about 6 months prior. Kyle knew getting into a relationship with me that SC was my end goal. I just don’t think either of us expected it to be so quick. When we went down to Folly Beach on vacation, I had a job interview and when they offered it to me, I took it and we moved down a month later. It was insane.
It was around 3 months after the move that I got a job at a publishing agency. At that time we were able to get into a nicer place. A townhouse. With the odd hours we worked, Kyle would drive me into work early in the morning. Then, he would meet me at my job and I would take a break to run him to work before driving back to work myself. I’d go pick him up late at night, early in the morning, we’d drive home and do it all again. We didn’t see much of each other this way. We mostly were just struggling to make it work. And somehow, we did.
Nights were lonely. I remember one evening, Kyle must have had the day off. He was waiting to pick me up from work and went over to the pet store. He picked me up and told me of the small black kitten he had found. She’s so sweet, he had said. We went back together. We played with this cute, outgoing kitty cat. We liked her. We sat on it for the night and went back for her the next day. Her name is Natasha, and years later, she is still ours.