The Unsexy Truth About My Miscarriage

"And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and though she had spent all her living on physicians; she could not be healed by anyone." Luke 8:43

Four weeks. That's all it's been: four weeks. It's normal, and other women have done it, and I probably still have a good couple of weeks left.

The week we were in Haiti, I used my Diva Cup. I then went to pads for as long as I could handle (about two weeks) and got a new Diva Cup to start using this weekend... which was good because I am losing A LOT of blood.

We're still newlyweds, of course, and this makes it impossible to engage in spontaneous intimacy. Even if we were to carefully construct all circumstances, facilitating copulation in the situation we're in is just not attractive. It involves things like puppy training pads and full-out showers.

I might be exaggerating a little, but not much.

I feel like such a drag when James reaches out toward me and I say, "Hold on; I have to go take care of a few things." It feels like I'm killing the mood, and I feel responsible for it, even though James doesn't make me feel this way at all.

And I can't imagine going through this for twelve years. I can't imagine being considered "unclean" and never being able to go to church. And for the Jews, work-arounds were not okay. If the woman in the story were married, she'd just have had to abstain. She spent twelve of her child-bearing years barren. She did not have the Diva Cup.

So I suppose that I should be counting my blessings. Instead, I'm just counting the days...