As if the loss of the baby wasn’t enough, now I have to worry about the possible implications for my physical health. I remain grateful to the baby that the miscarriage left me with no significant physical problems. I didn’t need surgery and I didn’t need to stay in hospital another night.

Now, I have to wait about 2 weeks to talk to specialists in an effort to find out if there is something else wrong.

I don’t actually know a lot. The chances are low that something could be wrong that could affect my ability to have biological kids in the future. But what keeps popping into my head is that the chances of something being wrong with my pregnancy were also supposed to be low.

“There’s a chance something could be wrong, but it’s small so it’s probably nothing.” 2 weeks and 1 day ago I would’ve believed it and held onto it like a totem. But now? Now I think I’m confronting the lasting mental impact that the miscarriage will have on me, which is whittling down my previously boundless optimism. What used to be “everything’s going to be okay” is now “it’s probably not going to be okay.” Or, more accurately, “everything’s going to be okay, but probably not in the way you’re hoping.”

I was doing so well and feeling like I was just coming up for air, and now I will have to acknowledge the possibility (however remote) that my actual ability to have biological children is compromised. The wait for that specialist appointment is really going to suck. I have things to do and ways to keep it out of my head, but right now it feels like if I ever stop doing things that this worry shoots right back in there.

Luckily, I’m about to head on a brief trip away and into the nerd bubble, so I will have no shortage of things to do for the next few days!