The Metaphorical Representation of My Mental State: Before, During, and After Having a Miscarriage

I’m in the kitchen holding a mug full to the brim with piping hot coffee. I decide I’d like to enjoy said coffee on the couch, nestled in my blanket, whilst watching the sunrise. Sounds relaxing, right? Wrong. Dead wrong. Because you know why? I have to get from the kitchen to the living room even though my mug is super full. It’s more full than I can handle, but I’m not going to let it stop me. I NEED a moment of peace to myself. So, I start walking. Slow and steady. Step by step, I get closer to that couch.

Hyper focused on keeping my coffee from spilling, I overlook a lone Lego laying in the middle of the living room floor. I catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye, but it’s too late. BOOM! I fall to the ground in agony, grabbing at the stabbing pain in the arch of my foot with one hand, and holding my mug up high with the other. I mustn’t spill the liquid gold I am so determined to savor. Yet, it pours down on me like burning magma. My hand, arm, face. Everything is burning.

I glance over both shoulders. No one saw the tragedy that ensued seconds before. I quickly brush myself off and fix my disheveled robe, pulling it back over my shoulder. Tears streaming down my face, I run to the kitchen for a rag to sop up my morning bliss that now rests in a puddle on the floor. Suddenly, I hear little pitter patters on the floor behind me.

“Good morning, Mommy!”

I wipe my tears before turning around.

“Good morning, sweetheart!”

I crouch down low with arms open wide. He runs into my arms, embraces me, and plants a warm kiss on my cheek.

“I love you so much, Mommy!”

He pulls himself back to look into my eyes. He can tell something isn’t right. Somehow he always knows.

“Why are you sad, Mommy?”

I reassure him that I am okay, because it’s fine. I’m FINE. Everything is FINE.

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