miscarriage

Rav’s Repro is a column in which Erin explores all topics related to reproduction and reproductive rights.

As I began to heal, I realized that I had neglected to fully appreciate the grief those closest to me carried. I’m talking about my husband. And my son. And our parents. And our closest friends. Their bereavement was undeniable, yet it took me a moment to acknowledge that it was there.

When I turned 21, my body crashed.

Rav’s Repro is a column in which Erin explores all topics related to reproduction and reproductive rights.

When a bereaved mother is left alone, how deep into the recesses of her mind does she wander? Does she surface for air? Does she want to come out at all?

In Navigating IVF, IVF Steph takes us on her journey through the wilds of fertility treatment.  

Whether this is news to you, seemingly irrelevant to you, or deeply personal to your experience, this truth remains that statistically speaking, one in every four pregnancies will end in miscarriage. Some of you are vaguely familiar with this, many of you have suffered this loss yourselves, and the likelihood is high that almost all of you know someone who’s lost a child in utero, whether or not they’ve ever spoken publicl about it.

A year and a half later, in 1995, I would give birth to my first living child — the child that the world considered my first child, that is really my second child. No one used the term “Rainbow Baby” in 1995; the designation didn’t exist. Even if it had, I had no “Rainbow Baby” to name because no one had heard the name of the baby before the Rainbow. The thing you don’t know about having a Rainbow Baby, until you have a Rainbow Baby, is the baby that is made after a baby is lost feels like so much more than just a baby.