I was in 8th grade when my mother had her hysterectomy. I’ll never forget visiting her in the hospital with a room overlooking a busy freeway. Under a heavily medicated state she talked about how life just continues on. She said in the grand scheme of things that she was quite insignificant. It took me 20 years but following my miscarriage in 2012, I finally understood her morphine induced poetic words.
This is my personal story of experiencing a first trimester miscarriage. My story of love and loss. Raw and painful but my story nonetheless.