the miscarriage files: from a cartoonist corner

cartoonmy bff sent me this today. it’s day 61 since i had a miscarriage at 18 weeks pregnant and i am nowhere close to being okay from it. so i was touched that she saw this and sent it over. i thought it apropos to use this as my chance to talk about miscarriage because 1) it’s where i’m at in my life right now, because 2) it’s perfect and colorful and somehow managed to make miscarriage feel tangible and 3) i think the ridiculous amount of sunshine we’re having made digesting painful content, however cutely presented, go down easier. and for the first time since my second trimester devastation two months ago, i feel like now, for better or for worse, whether i want to or not, i belong to a special community of women who are all finding reasons to get up in the morning and live their lives with the intention to themselves that this day will be better. i will be a better version of myself and how i am feeling today because i know that other women have gone through this, are going through this and will go through this and damn if we won’t all come out the other end okay. better than okay. that’s what I want to believe. probably because the pain is still so thick and the hurt still so fucking raw. but in addition to all of these reasons, i am delighted to add one more 4) the artist is a fellow Portlander who does all of the art for our beloved Dave’s Killer Bread, bless his heart (which Sebe eats his weight in – i have yet to change a diaper that isn’t filled with flax seeds, just saying).

cartoon 1 cartoon 3i’ve been thinking a lot about why, in a generation where it seems that nothing, no topic, is off of limits (here’s looking at you Abbi Jacobson, Ilana Glazer, Amy Schumer, Tina Fey, Amy Pohler, Mindy Kaling and Lena Dunham– bless YOUR hearts for shit’s sake), why, whyyyy, is miscarriage still such a silence among women? but i know why. it’s because it sucks to think about and talk about. it fu-ck-ing hurts and it’s one of those life experiences that no woman wants to open a dinner party convo with. as i wade through my own hellish emo roller coaster in dealing with this, i’m realizing that, for me, it’s something, if given the chance, the smallest opening from someone, it just spills out – “Hey, do you know what time it is?” “Yeah, I do and I just had a miscarriage but it’s okay, my period came back a month later and now my husband and I are trying again.” – i want to talk about it with girlfriends and strangers and therapists and people innocently waiting for the bus or their vanilla latte. it’s a completely inappropriate over sharing of something no one else wants to hear about. unless they’ve had one too. when it has come up between me and other woman the last two months and if they have had one or god forbid, more than one, suddenly i feel like i have a sounding board and i can ask her about hers and there is the most vulnerable, empathetic understanding of each other. i feel like so many amazing, strong, gorgeous women are walking around carrying the weight of a miscarriage on her shoulders. it is a thing that has no racial, ethnic, class or geographic preference. and this leveling of the human condition, of the risk we all take in being alive and striving for family, is kind of an incredible place from which to stand as a woman.

cartoon 4so, yeah, it’s day by day at the moment, but this really helped and in future posts, I’ll looking forward to spilling the juice about my own experience with miscarriage and all the things I did and am doing in the effort to remain proactive and find peace in wishing for another couple (healthy) pregnancies asap. Sebe deserves some siblings to add to his pack and mom & baby daddy just can’t wait to be knocked up again. I’ve never been more excited to be nauseous and uncomfortable for 9 months plus.

since I name dropped two of my favorite fly girls in the game, i had to include a clip of them. because talking about miscarriages should end with something really endearingly funny that includes girlfriends in action and their fine ass asses.