Some find me morbid.
Sometimes, they are right. I can be pessimistic. I have a clarity of focus that can be terrifying in its intensity, when fuelled by negativity.
Hákon and I joke about it.
We say he’s the optimist, and without me he would be carefree, hedonistic and destitute. Possibly in debtor’s prison.
We say I’m the pessimist, and without him I’d be efficient, ruthless and utterly miserable. Possibly in the hospital.
It’s an exaggeration, a joke, but it carries a grain of truth.
Together we balance out at happy. Healthy.
But anyway, this post isn’t about that.
This is about information and choices.
I research things.
Sometimes, I research things that others find uncomfortable. When my choice is a comforting lie or a hard truth, I want the hard truth. I study it, in detail, and I have long since lost any illusion that such study will give me power over it. But I want to know anyway.
Today, I stumbled upon a couple of thought-provoking, well-written articles about an issue that most women who choose to have children may go through, but isn’t talked about much. Because talking about it is considered morbid. Or disturbing. Or uncomfortable.
But it’s worth talking about.
No, I have not had a miscarriage. I have only once tried to get pregnant, and within two weeks of ceasing use of my birth control, I was pregnant. The pregnancy met all milestones on schedule, carried to term, and I gave as natural a birth as was possible under the circumstances. I was lucky.
But I was always aware of the risks. I wanted to know. Even though I know it wouldn’t make it any easier. Knowledge does not give control. It is only knowledge. But that does not make it less valuable.
These are normal things. As normal and natural as death, and birth, and loss, and love. They are at once the most profound, and the most mundane of moments. And miscarriage is a normal and natural thing, experienced differently by each individual. For some, a deepset conflict of complex emotions, for others, a non-event, passing without awareness, just a bleeding happening two days later than usual.
I hope I get to skip this chapter in the human experience. If I want another child, chances (30%) are that I won’t. But it’s a lesson I would be grateful to learn vicariously.