Do You Ever Get Over a Miscarriage?

Eight years ago today, I got my first positive pregnancy test. After over a year of trying to conceive, I was absolutely ecstatic. And then, when I went in for my first ultrasound and saw an empty gestational sack, I was devastated. 

It was a blighted ovum: A type of missed miscarriage in which an embryo never develops, even though the gestational sack and placenta develop. A few weeks later, I had a D&C and just like that, my pregnancy was over.

For months, I felt like a completely different human. A miscarriage is a pretty invisible loss, and when your baby never even began forming in your womb — when you never even got a look at that gummy bear-like image on the screen — it feels even more so. But to me, the loss was so incredibly real. I felt such a darkness, and even though I knew time would dull the edges of my pain, I wanted to scream every time someone told me I would "get over" my loss when I finally held a baby in my arms. 

To be clear: That's a horrible thing to say to someone who is going through a loss. It's invalidating and insensitive and just plain rude. But after a few months, I began to feel like myself again. 

Do you ever “get over” a miscarriage? Eight years later, with two healthy, beautiful kids, I still don’t know.

My loss doesn't feel like a raw, open wound anymore. But does that mean I’m "over it"? I don't really like to think about a loss and a set of possibilities that were so real to me as a thing to get over. But my miscarriage is not a constant source of pain, and for that I am grateful.

I'm also grateful that my miscarriage is still on my mind, in some ways. I still think about what it would have looked like to have that baby. I still think about the baby I lost. It’s still real to me. 

At the end of the day, that pregnancy is a part of my story, and always will be. 

If you’re going through a loss, it’s okay to feel angry when people tell you to “get over it”. But I’m here to tell you this: It does get better.