Sex in an Arena

After my second miscarriage landed me in the hospital for two days, I started to reveal it to a larger circle of people, many more than I did after the first. The whole situation was sad, but the threat to my health made it scarier than sad this time around. I understood more than ever how much women fear exposing their miscarriages.

I began writing this blog because I wanted to share my fears and loneliness surrounding pregnancy and miscarriage. I felt very alone and even embarrassed when I lost my first pregnancy. It's because pregnancy is often hidden, it's something spent whispering about until the third trimester. Yes, there is a lot of joy, but there is also a sense of impending doom about a pregnancy.

I get that it's an attempt to protect your feelings and the feelings of others -- after all, why extend the suffering to everyone you know? But I also feel like there's this sense of immense failure when you lose a pregnancy. It caused me to dissect every last one of my actions leading up to the miscarriage: maybe I shouldn't have gone running, or eaten that salami sandwich. Ultimately I knew it that it was not my fault. So, why did I still feel like such a loser?

And when I told women who had also had miscarriages how I felt, the floodgates opened. They told me how they always wanted to talk to someone but just couldn't. There might be support groups out there that give women this opportunity, but I certainly didn't know about it. And, let's face it, who's going to search "Miscarriage Support" while they're also reading about strollers, and cribs? I hope that my small forum here will help alleviate the pressures, sadness, and sense of aloneness.

Speaking of pressure: a couple of weekends ago I felt like I DTD'ed in an arena. We were scheduled to go on a weekend trip with friends, all staying one house. Just before the start of the trip, I realized that I would be ovulating during that time. We would be DTD in a crowded house! For some people, their sense of exhibitionism might prevail, but not in this case -- it would be baby-making sex, not "run into the bathroom at the height of passion". The baby-making aspect made it somehow more animalistic and raw. And a little embarrassing.

Luckily, the situation fell into place and we were able to slip away to DTD without attracting too much attention. Afterward, laying there and hearing the sounds of laughter and glasses clinking one room away, I decided to rejoin the party.

Friends were gathered in front of a fireplace, drinking wine. They spotted me, and then broke into a round of applause. When I sat down, one friend immediately walked over to where I was and deftly elevated my legs. And another friend handed me my wine glass.