By then I knew my luck wasn't good. I knew that it was our last try before we turned to adoption. With that knowledge came the courage to post because, though pregnant, we no longer felt in the midst of it all. By then, the cards were dealt one way or the other. It was what it was.
This year, even further removed from pregnancy, I was not subtle at all:
I speak out to honor our 3 lost babies.
I speak out to thank our family and friends.
I speak out to remember the lost babies of my friends.
I speak out to advocate - because no one should have to feel alone or ashamed.
October 15 is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.
People were again universally supportive. (It helps to have twitter/blog friends giving me a thumbs up within minutes of posting.) But yet I feel incredibly awkward about it now. To me, Facebook should be for fluffy not-too-personal stuff. Like when I posted about walking to work in a dark suit and my "commuter shoes" (i.e. Sketchers) and a homeless man sprawled on the ground outside of McDonald's said to me in a seductive tone, "If I had a girl like you... [steeling myself for the next line] ... [wait for it] ... I would never let her wear shoes like that!"
I broke my own cardinal rule of Facebook: never post anything meaningful.* It's really hard to reveal myself that way - to picture people reading my post with their judgey-pants on, rolling their eyes at my personal traumas. Thinking it was inappropriate to post something so intimate for 200 people to see. But I thought it was important, so I did it anyway. More than anything else, I want other people who are grieving a miscarriage to know that they aren't the only ones. I felt incredibly alone before I found the online IF community, and if one person was comforted by my post, it was worth doing.
Advocacy is hard.
*Except occasionally a political article, but only if people are being obnoxious and really deserve it.
PS I have a new entry on my timeline over yonder --> Next year, folks. We're getting closer.