Breaking the miscarriage silence

It's a blog I've started probably a dozen times.

How do you talk about having a miscarriage? Every time I wrote about our loss, it didn't sound right. I'd imagine the worst-case-scenario comments I'd receive and each time, abandon the post.

Until I read Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg's post announcing his wife's pregnancy and her three previous miscarriages. It's quite eloquent. And spot on:

"Most people don't discuss miscarriages," he wrote in part, "because you worry your problems will distance you or reflect upon you -- as if you're defective or did something to cause this. So you struggle on your own."

As of this writing, the post had 1.6 million likes, 48,000 shares and 107,000 comments, many from people who shared their miscarriage stories. So, I started typing. And the words finally felt right:

When I was married almost a decade ago, I said I'd have a kid at some point. That was before any of our friends had kids. I figured my biological clock would kick on eventually and I'd be ready to go.

The opposite happened. I saw how my friends' lives changed after they gave birth. And it freaked me out.

Eventually, my hubby and I had what I call the "come to Jesus" moment about having kids, which led to several months of deep thought, prayer and the creation of a pro-con list, in which I listed three good things and 20 bad things about having kids.

By all normal measures, I should have just said, "I changed my mind; I'm not going to have kids" and leave it at that. But it wasn't resting right in my soul. When I looked at the "cons" on my list, I realized something: They were all about my selfishness.

I didn't want to share my time, my body or my resources with a kid. I wanted to go where I wanted and do what I wanted, thank you very much.

But was it worth it to deny my husband the thing he wanted more than anything -- to be a dad -- simply to preserve my own selfishness? For me -- and, as any woman's decision is about having or not having kids, this is simply what was right for me -- the answer was no.

I didn't want to be a mom, but I decided to take a leap of faith and see what happens (I know -- totally not like me. I did make a pro-con list, remember?). Within two months, I was pregnant.

I went for an initial ultrasound, where I found that not only was I pregnant with twins, but that they weren't growing correctly. The pregnancy wasn't viable.

I'd expected my reaction to be "well, at least I'm off the hook." But that wasn't it at all. I was devastated. All I wanted was to keep those babies.

I grieved more than I expected. It felt like it did when my dad passed away in 2003. But I didn't know how to talk about it with anyone other than my closest friends. I did talk to them, though, and I realized how common miscarriage is.

How common, actually, isn't clear. We don't track miscarriages well, though some estimate 15 to 20 percent of pregnancies end in miscarriage. I learned, however, that I had lots of friends who lost babies. It was oddly comforting to know I wasn't alone.

And something strange happened. Working through my grief, I decided that I wanted to become a mom. The first month we were able to try again, I got pregnant. Nine months later -- and after 30 hours of labor -- our son was born.

Motherhood hasn't been all sunshine and smiling photos. The first few months were particularly hard, as I struggled with chronic sleep deprivation and overcoming my fear that I wouldn't be a good mom. Going back to work has been a stretch to learn which tasks I can juggle and which I need to drop, though working from home several days a week has made that much easier.

But life goes on, and it gets better. It always gets better.

That's what I'd say to women struggling to come to terms with their own miscarriages, changing self-images after motherhood and, well, any other reproductive decisions they face. You don't have to broadcast your experiences to the world. I write for a living, and it took me more than a year to be OK with sharing this story.

But at least find a trusted friend or family member to help walk you through it.

As Zuckerberg wrote, "In today's open and connected world, discussing these issues doesn't distance us; it brings us together. It creates understanding and tolerance, and it gives us hope.​"