Phone rings*, “Hello there, I’m calling to speak to Miss Carriage, she seems to have came suddenly and took my precious…”, voice breaks and phone hangs up*.
I met Miss-Carriage three times so far in my life. Before I start my sob story or shall I say taboo of a topic, I want to say why I chose this title. I named it Miss-Carriage referring it to a lady but in a feminine being. My symbolism is meant to portray the elephant in the room, we all know but don’t say out loud, especially us ladies.
I’m here to speak up, about my story and about all those stories that get untold. Miscarriage, as sensitively I can say, it can happen suddenly, to anyone, there is no age , race or reason for it to happen but it’s just one of those things that just happens.
I had a miscarriage twice before becoming pregnant with my daughter and once before becoming pregnant with my son. In all of those times I felt the same, nothing less but more of a missing void, a desire to become a mother, an yearning I suppose. I don’t know why but I feel situations like these happened for the best, it’s because of these traumatic experiences that shaped me into being a appreciative mother. When I’m having a rough day as a mother, I always think, “this is what you wanted“, and I don’t know why but it humbles me. One thing I haven’t told anyone is that I never forget about it, but the scary part is I remember the edd or estimated due dates and always think about how grown they’d be by now, sighs*. Dear Miss Carriage, I have nothing to say to you and I’m not angry at you anymore or upset. Just wanted to remind myself that my babies have turned to angels and are in a good place.
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