Why I put the campaign on pause...

The summer was finally here, the season I most longed for all winter long. I had planned to spend my summer having brunch with friends on the weekends, taking my daughter on outdoor adventures, and traveling with my husband. Instead I packed my schedule with writing, classes, meetings, and meetups    (all things I also thoroughly enjoy). My husband worked what felt like a month or two straight of overtime. I was starting to feel physically and mentally burnt out. I felt stressed, irritated, and exhausted. These feelings quickly dissolved when I found out I was pregnant, again. I suddenly forgot about all of the stress and frustration I had been feeling. My husband and I were thrilled that after months and months of trying, we were finally expecting our second baby. Another April baby! Our doctor confirmed my pregnancy and I was feeling really good six weeks in ( I was miserable in my last pregnancy).

Putting this exciting news aside for a moment, my husband and I experienced one of the scariest moment in our lives. It was in the middle of the night and our one year old daughter’s body began convulsing. She was having a seizure. When her lips turned blue and she began foaming at the mouth we scooped her up and rushed her to the emergency room. Halfway there I was sure she stopped breathing when her body went limp in my arms. Drool was pouring from her mouth. This was the exact moment when I was holding Raegen’s limp body in my arms where I didn’t want the new baby. My husband quickly performed CPR on her. We spent the next week in and out of the emergency room and doctor’s offices. She was pricked, poked, and tested. It turns out it was a very common febrile seizure that occurs when one’s body temperature spikes.

Everything was finally feeling normal again when I woke up that Saturday morning  with excruciating pains, cramps, and bleeding. I was seven weeks pregnant and I knew in that moment that we would never get the chance to meet this baby.  All of the hopes and dreams that came with this pregnancy quickly came to an end. My husband was still pleasantly optimistic. When the bleeding lasted for more than seven hours straight my doctor had advised that we go to the emergency room. Many hours later the emergency room doctors gave us paperwork and sent us on our way with a bunch of unanswered questions. After two more days of discomfort and bleeding, we had what would have been our first sonogram appointment to see the heartbeat. This appointment ended up being our confirmation of the miscarriage. I kept telling myself, “This had to happen. It was my body getting rid of a bad pregnancy.” I told myself this on repeat. I kept reminding myself that after my first miscarriage in 2016, I got pregnant with my daughter Raegen. A day or two after the appointment I finally let myself feel everything. My heart felt heavy. My eyes felt heavy from crying. I felt  every bit of the sadness and disappointment. I was reminded of the miscarriage every time I went to the bathroom. I was heartbroken.

A miscarriage occurs when your body ends the pregnancy on its own within the first 20 weeks. Miscarriages  are incredibly common for women but not often spoken of. According to the American Pregnancy Association, studies show that 10-25% of clinically recognized pregnancies end in a miscarriage. This number increases dramatically when you include chemical miscarriages and clinically unconfirmed miscarriages. After my first miscarriage, I felt uncomfortable speaking about it, and people felt uncomfortable hearing about it. However  the more I spoke about it, the more I realized just how common they actually are. The second time around I found support in my friends and family, so why did I struggle to openly share how I was feeling? Why did this still feel like such an isolating experience? Fear was holding me back from sharing my grief with others. My miscarriages are a big part of my journey. They are a part of my history. It is time we stop being so afraid of speaking openly and honestly. Today I am shining a light on my story and I hope others will know that it is okay to feel, it is okay to grieve, and it is okay to share.

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author Tiffany Grant
@itscalledvitiligo.grant 

​I have been living with Vitiligo for 21 years. My first spots appeared on my knees at the age of 7. I decided to get the tattoo "It's called Vitiligo" a few years back to put a name to the disease and help educate others. Many sources, including Women's Health Magazine and the Daily Mail,  shared my story around the world, spreading awareness and breaking down the stigma of living with Vitiligo. From Brooklyn, NY, I continue to advocate and raises awareness for Vitiligo.