I was astounded to learn that approximately 25% of women experience a miscarriage. Yet, I find solace in knowing I'm not alone, as I recently faced the deep sadness of experiencing one myself. Still, it doesn't completely take away the mental and physical emptiness I've been navigating for the past three weeks.
Today would have marked the end of my first trimester. As highlighted in my day planner, I'm reminded of what would've been the moment I'd finally share the news—the beginning of a new chapter, a life-changing, next-level spiritual awakening—that I'm pregnant and will be a mom. But for this prelude, God has other plans, so this is where my new chapter begins.
Since July, my partner and I made the BIG life decision to try to conceive. Honestly, I never thought I'd be one to want children, but something shifted in me. Maybe it's society's influential fear of missing out, deeper soul calling, my ovaries and hormones exploding, or the simple realization that I'd finally found someone with whom I want to build a family life. Either way, we decided to get started quickly.
Given our age concern and not wanting to pursue IVF, we traveled to Singapore to take all the necessary fertility tests. Luckily, all test results returned positive on both ends of the spectrum, with the doctor advising us to be patient. Yet, to our surprise and counting our blessings, we only took a month to get pregnant.
I was in disbelief when I saw the two lines on the pregnancy test. I thought, "Wow, that happened quickly," and then came the wave of early pregnancy: crazed hormones, fatigue, swollen breasts—but no morning sickness, thankfully.
Soon, the overwhelming feeling of "I have no fucking idea what I'm doing" set in, and I need to figure it all out Right Now—read all the books, hire a doula, start prenatal yoga and pilates, research birth plans, get married, eat 'perfectly' and stress less. But I realized the best thing I could do for myself—and for the miracle growing inside me—was to breathe, slow down, and simply be present.
For 9 weeks, I did my best to stay grounded in sweet surrender while fantasizing about heading back to Singapore for the first ultrasound and hearing the baby's heartbeat. We'd make it a special day—looking for the perfect engagement ring and finding a perfect white suit for our planned elopement in Iceland.
I was flying high on a dose of gratitude. That joy soon crashed into a dark silence of utter despair as we received news that no woman—or partner—ever wants to hear: my pregnancy was not viable. The technical term was a "blighted ovum," meaning the sac was in the right place, but the embryo hadn't developed.
As tears welled up, my partner took my hand. I tried to stay positive as the doctor outlined our options for my soon-to-be miscarriage: surgery, pills to induce, or letting nature take its course, which seemed the most torturous.
Heartbroken and facing a hard decision, I chose the pills, wanting to be at home, surrounded by my loving partner and our dogs. I prayed that it would be swift and painless, but for five days, my body went through a nuclear war.
Thankfully, I'm a warrior, and I trust that God will never present me with anything I can't endure.
Now, as I continue to process this traumatic experience, I know healing is never linear. I'm learning to stop questioning "why" since my internal wisdom knows such questions would send me into a self-sabotage spiral that serves no purpose.
Instead, as I move forward into uncertainty and relinquish control, I choose trust and faith, believing everything is exactly how it should be. My heart tells me that God has a greater plan—he always does. And when the time is right, we will try again.
Much Love, Lauren
