A year ago I became pregnant for the first time and a few months later I was laying on a bathroom floor in Hawaii sobbing after having sex for the first time in almost two months.

We lost our first baby around 6 weeks and 3 days and had no idea until a 10 week appointment. I took the pill four times across a two week time frame. I bled for a month. Only to be forced to have an urgent d&c anyways.

Hawaii was supposed to be the reset button, but that night in the bathroom I realized how profoundly affected we were by the loss of something that we would never even know. I realized how “over it” I truly wasn’t.

So I took time away from trying, from apps, from babies in general. From all of it. I saw a PTSD counselor. I unfollowed my pregnant friends on social media. I needed to move on in a way that also honored this journey and loss. It felt like no one could ever understand. Like they may minimize what I have experienced. I heard all of the sympathy statements, both meaningful and hurtful.

1 in 4 pregnancies ends in a loss and nothing I did or didn’t do would have changed what happened. Ladies, if you are suffering just know that it gets better. I crawled out of the dark pit I fell into at my own pace, in my own time. I’m stronger, wiser and not afraid to talk about it, and one day you will get there too. I promise.

So, wish me luck, baby dust, and strength because I’m trying again and I’m ready for whatever life is going to throw at me.