When I decided to start this blog my intention was to chronicle my life at college as honestly and completely as possible. I thought it was necessary because before starting I had no idea what to expect. Very rarely had I come across a true and comprehensive account of what it’s life to be a freshman, and even more rarely did I find accounts of what it’s like to be a freshman at a small school with no Greek life. So I wanted to give people a way to peak into my new life and watch as I adjusted and (hopefully) flourished.
I wanted to show people what is to be expected from college.
That being said, something has happened. Something that a lot of girls, women, deal with in their lives. Something that I’m certain a lot of freshman deal with. With the mix of stress, poor diet, excessive drinking, maybe some drugs peppered in there, and general risky behavior it’s a wonder it doesn’t happen more often. Maybe it does, but no one really wants to talk about it. I promised as much honesty as I could muster, so that’s what I’m going to do.
I’ve had a miscarriage. Technically, it’s called an early miscarriage because it happens during the implantation stage as opposed to once the bundle of cells has already implanted and is growing.
Lovely images, right?
My thoughts exactly.
I found out Tuesday, promptly had a drink (or more) and with little to no tact or sugar coating I informed the Minimalist, who could have used another drink or so before I told him. I then proceeded to drink more, make a bit of a fool of myself, and go to bed promptly at 5 (with an 8:30 class looming). If you can’t tell, I don’t handle emotions or stressful situations well.
How or when this happened, I have no idea. It couldn’t have been that long ago. We always used contraception and it’s supposed to be a bit harder than normal for me to get pregnant. It really just baffles me. And weirds me out. And a couple of other indescribable feelings. It’s just hard to wrap my mind around the idea that, for at least a day or two, I was pregnant. I was incubating the Minimalist’s (demon) spawn.
I spent a day or two a little bluer than normal while trying to process the gravity of the situation. It’s not a huge deal, though. At least to me it’s not. I can understand how it could be for some people, but at this point in my life a baby is the last thing I need. I’m happy, possibly happier than I’ve been in a very long time. Or ever. The Minimalist is great. College is amazing. The only responsibilities I have are class and rugby, two things I certainly don’t mind. Reproducing would certainly complicate all of those things in ways I don’t want to imagine. And I don’t have to.
So that has been my life this week. No need for sympathy or prayers because, as I said, I’m fine. I just thought you deserved the honest account I promised.
And now…it’s Halloween weekend. There’s a ton of parties to help me celebrate and I’ve got a killer costume. So I’ll fill you in on Monday.