In the past year, I’ve been through cycles of hoping, hurting, and healing — and then doing it all over again

Spoiler alert: This isn’t a satisfying read. If you were hoping to unwind and relax with a cup of coffee, turn the page, because this piece isn’t for you. This is raw, disjointed, a bit messy. It will leave questions without answers and plenty of loose ends. Because this is my life right now. My life with RPL.

Three little letters, or more accurately, what they represent, have turned my life inside out: recurrent pregnancy loss. RPL is one of those vague acronyms that describes a problem, but not what causes it. In my case, the problem is that in the past year, I’ve carried three separate pregnancies and lost them all. In the past year, I’ve been through cycles of hoping, hurting, and healing — and then doing it all over again. And again.

If you knew me, you’d never guess what I’ve been going through. How could I have a fertility problem? I have several adorable children, I’m young and healthy. As I push my cart down the aisle at the grocery, or push my toddler on the swing at the park, I look like every other busy, happy, slightly harried mother. Sometimes I can hardly believe it myself; is this really me? Is it really me, breathlessly rushing out of work to get another blood draw or see another specialist? Is it really me, examining her face in the mirror each morning, wondering if makeup can mask the red-rimmed eyes?