TRIGGER WARNING: This article covers the sensitive subject of miscarriage. If you know that reading this could have a negative impact on you, please go back to the homepage.
I never thought I could get pregnant. Maybe it’s because I couldn’t imagine myself as a mother or I thought it would be the universe's way of punishing me for fornication. On the other hand, perhaps I thought getting pregnant out of wedlock would be the real punishment.
One day, I came home and realised I had missed my period. I never did know exactly what day it would come every month, but I had an inclination that something wasn’t right so, I took a test. And then I took a second and a third. All three tests had two defiant red lines and I was in disbelief.
I was 21 at the time, wasn’t in a relationship with the man that impregnated me and could barely stand at the thought of the shame that would come with having the baby. But I decided to keep the child anyway.
A few weeks into the pregnancy after feeling rejected at every side, being temporarily homeless, and finally embracing this growing child, I had a miscarriage.
Based on my experience and that of a couple of other courageous women I’ve spoken to, I’m going to share what miscarriage taught me about womanhood.