Posts tagged miscarriage
The Memorial
The Memorial

In the early morning hours after John Lennon was shot and killed, people began gathering in front of the Upper West Side apartment building that he shared with his wife and their young son. For more than a week, from everywhere and of all ages, they came to keep a vigil. Watching the local news channel, I hear them referred to as Beatle fans. But what I see are mourners. Crowded together, hemmed in by police barricades, they weep and hold candles and signs, cleaving to the spot where Lennon left this earth.

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True StoriesJulia NusbaumChild Loss, miscarriage, still born, stillborn, New York, Beetles, John Lennon, Grief, Loss Comments
A Stranger's Gift to Me in the Phoenix Airport
A Stranger's Gift to Me in the Phoenix Airport

“You need to eat.” His eyes averted, my husband dropped a bag of potato chips in my lap and returned to his work call, pacing back and forth in the airport waiting area. I stared at the plain chips--I hate plain chips. I could feel them come again: fat, slippery tears sliding down my face. I tasted salt as I tried to bite them back. What was I doing in an airport in Arizona on a Monday afternoon? Crying in public? This wasn’t me.

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True StoriesSelena Raygozapregnancy, miscarriage, womenComment
The Birth Day That Wasn't
The Birth Day That Wasn't

The first thing I remember about that day was my coffee. I sipped it nervously on the way to our eight o'clock appointment, the Anatomy Scan. I'd just recovered from my first miscarriage and was miraculously pregnant again. I was painfully nervous. My co-workers talked about the anatomy scan like it was the pinnacle of pregnancy appointments. In addition to finding out the gender of the baby, I was on pins and needles about whether all would be right anatomically.

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True StoriesGuest Usermiscarriage, infertility, griefComment
Losing Rosebud: The Memoir of a Miscarriage
Losing Rosebud: The Memoir of a Miscarriage

She was dead before I met her so I’m not sure how much of our meeting I should believe. I was at the deli counter at Kroger when she found me, far away at the crossroads of Main and Court streets in Luray, Virginia, at what used to be the second stoplight in town. She introduced herself as Rosebud (which should have been my first clue), and she winked as she said, but you can call me Rosie, and I knew right then and there that I’d believe anything she had to say.

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True StoriesJulia Nusbaummiscarriage, Growing up, Strong women, pregnancyComment