Gingnuggie

This is a question we’re all guilty of asking a woman, sometimes her spouse, and I’m equally guilty of asking. But as I’ve experienced different things in life, and watched friends endure different things, I’ve learned to let that conversation come up naturally if possible.

Miscarriage. Infertility. No maternal instinct. No desire. Women experience different struggles and different views on having children. Our society tends to shy away from talking about miscarriages or infertility at times leaving women feeling inadequate or small or pitied for not being able to get pregnant so easily. It’s especially challenging at times for those who choose not to have children or simply don’t want them. People look at them as if they’re absolutely mental for not wanting to bring new life into the world. I share the opinion that you aren’t obligated to have a child just because you’re married, or any reason for that matter. It’s not the same as a pet goldfish, and both pregnancy and childbirth can be scary in a multitude of ways. It’s a big life change and responsibility, something that shouldn’t be taken lightly.

I fall in the category of indifferent on having children, while also having two miscarriages. I’ve never felt the urge to have children and there are varying health factors, although I welcome the idea and know my husband and I would be amazing parents. We’ve gotten pregnant twice and lost both. I’m at a point right now where I don’t know if I want to try again because of the mental tax you pay, not necessarily the physical for me.

In October 2022, I experienced my first miscarriage. We were nearly out of the first trimester, and we were shocked but excited to welcome a little babe into the world. While I won’t get into all of the details of it, it was one of the hardest things I’ve experienced. I felt like the stress of what was happening in life caused so much stress on my body that it couldn’t handle it. That because I was taking certain medications and didn’t know I was pregnant at the time, that I ruined it. That my body was messed up in some way and I caused this, that for whatever reason I wasn’t fit to be a mother. My body had not completely carried out the miscarriage, so I had to go in for a D&C… adding another layer of mental anguish to what I’d already endured. What my husband and I endured.

A few months later in January 2023, I lost my dad. I stopped taking some of my medications at that time because I felt they were doing more harm than good, had many conversations with my doctor and ended up losing nearly 25 pounds due to depression and obsessive/disordered eating habits. For those who don’t know, my dad had Colorectal Cancer and I became afraid of food after I got a colonoscopy and polyps were removed. All through 2023, I worked very hard to combat these obsessive thoughts and work through all that had happened. Fast forward to 2024, I started and graduated nursing school and gained about 30 pounds back. I finally felt like myself again, even through the stress of nursing school and losing my Grandmother, my Banana, who was one of my best friends.

It’s now 2025, the day after Valentine’s Day. My period has been irregular for years, so I never think much of it when I’m late but this time was different. I took a pregnancy test that night then we drove to the nearest open gas station to get more to find I was pregnant. A few days later while in South Carolina while attending a funeral, I started bleeding and ended up in the ER getting tests done… confirming what I already knew to be true. I planned to share the good news with my friends while celebrating my birthday in Hawaii, but instead it was the most beautiful escape from everything that began a few weeks before. I bled for a few weeks on and off, and had yet lost another.

We were making plans to turn our candle room into a nursery, talking about names, when and how we would tell our family and closest friends. Making plans like one does when they find out and are excited. We will still make plans, and will carry them out when we’re ready.

The first few days were the worst, and I used morbid humor to try to get through it… a common coping mechanism of mine. My husband, Daniel, reassured me and was so gentle and comforting again. It was hard both times for us, but having him by my side each time made it more bearable. It’s now been one month since we found out, and I feel like myself again. I know that these things happen and sometimes we don’t know why, but I cannot sit in it and try to figure out the cause. I may never know. At this point, I’m not ready to try again nor do I know when I will be.

I share this to remind whoever is reading this that we never know what someone’s going through in terms of getting pregnant. It’s not to shame anyone for their experience, beliefs or opinions. I have many friends who have gotten pregnant without trying and had amazing pregnancies and birth, some friends who struggle for years to get pregnant, some who have lost their children further along than I, some who became mothers at a young age, some who don’t want children, some who have had traumatic birth experiences. There’s no shame in any of this, and I don’t share this asking for pity. I value that I have always been an open book, sharing my most exciting points in life and my lowest. My hope is that someone reading this feels less alone and knows that someone else understands their pain.

Until I decide it’s my time to try, I will continue to love on all of the babies my friends and family have as will my husband. We love children, we love babies, we will have a family of our own one day. In the meantime, we have our three beautiful, perfect doggos.

To the women who fit into these categories and others, I feel you. I see you. I love you. I am you.