I have been struggling this week. I know it seems I say that a lot, but who doesn’t? Making it through the whole month of March seems to have become an endeavor for me for the last seven years.  

In March 2017, I was on the complete other side of the spectrum. I had just found out I was pregnant, shared the news with family and friends and in the joyous phase of early pregnancy. By my calculations I was about 9-10 weeks at this time and scheduled my first appointment to see my doctor.  

A couple weeks into the month, the joyous phase began fizzling out and was replaced by nausea, morning sickness, bloating and just feeling plain exhausted 24/7. But I was still excited, nonetheless.  

But it was around this time seven years ago, even those side effects began to subside, and I began feeling a little off. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew something wasn’t right. I had to wait a whole week and a half for my appointment that was ironically scheduled for April 1 – April Fool’s Day.  

I went in and went through the whole usual process, but once I told my doctor how I was feeling, he sent me straight to get an ultrasound. The tech did her job and of course wasn’t allowed to say anything, although I already knew, she sent me to a separate room and told me the doctor would be in shortly. About ten minutes later, my worst fear was confirmed. The baby did not have a heartbeat.  

I got the whole spiel about how common it is, how there wasn’t anything I could have done differently to make any kind of difference, blah blah blah. I left the doctor’s office with a prescription that I was to get filled and begin taking right away and went home.  

It appeared to be a normal day for anyone looking in from the outside. I did a lot of sitting on the couch, eating, watching TV and napping. I think I must have still been in denial at this point, until later that evening.  

I am not sure if you miscarry after a life passes inside of you or after it passes outside of you, but the latter happened like the doctor told me it would and that’s when it hit me.  

Of course, the next few days were rough – having to tell all the same family members and friends that you were no longer pregnant and having a couple sweep it under the rug and repeat the same things I heard a few days prior… “It happens all the time” and “there was nothing you could do.”  

I understand it’s not something that is talked about a lot and I never had any idea how common it was until I began doing just that – talking about it, but even then, it just gets swept under the rug because most people (including myself) have a hard time talking about sad things. But it was a life, so much potential and so much excitement and far-off plans made, and names picked out, just for it to be treated as if it were a common cold.  

There is not a day that goes by that I do not think about how different my life would be if he or she were here, what their personality would be like, what sports they would be interested in, etc.  

A few months later I found out I was pregnant again with Ashton. I know if I wouldn’t have miscarried then she wouldn’t be here and that’s proof enough for me to know that everything happens for a reason because I couldn’t imagine my life without my rainbow baby.  

But April Fool’s Day will never be a day of practical jokes for me, and I urge you to consider this when you are planning out your yearly pregnancy joke post to Facebook. There are plenty of other innocent hoaxes to be played, but pregnancy is not one of them. Please be mindful that one in four of your friends has experienced a loss such as this and one in six are struggling with infertility issues. Get a little more creative this year.  

And for the mothers who are struggling, I see you and I am here if you need me.

(Paige Nash is a mom of three girls, digital journalist for Webster Parish Journal and publisher of Bienville Parish Journal and Claiborne Parish Journal.)