Statistically, my imagination is not my friend

When we lost the baby, everyone and their mother’s uncle’s best friend’s cousin twice removed (starting with my doctor) told us how common it was. First of all, STFU and secondly, gag me and thirdly, what the hell, man?! When my grandparents died, no one told me how common it was; even though it is, because statistically 100% of people will eventually die.

So I looked up the miscarriage statistics myself because we really weren’t getting any concrete information about this very common occurrence. And I wanted information.

Statistically, one in four recognized pregnancies results in a miscarriage. On a human being level, that means one in four would-be mothers and one in four would-be fathers lose their baby before it’s even born. In the place (read: uterus) where it is supposed to be more protected than it ever will be ever again. Which is complete and utter bullshit. I mean, I know I’m biased. But it is mind-blowing that we can put people on the moon and explore nanotechnology, but there is still so much gray about WHY miscarriages are so common. You would think that by now, they could give a better answer than, “most likely the chromosomes didn’t line up correctly”. Most likely?!

As I continued research, I discovered that statistically 1 in 160 pregnancies (in the US) end in stillbirth. Statistically, one in eight couples struggle with infertility. Now, I’m sure that a mathematician or scientist could jump to correct me on what I’m about to say next. But from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t seem like the biggest jump to go from being a one-in-four to also being a one-in-eight or a one-in-one-hundred-sixty. Especially when statistically the chances of a couple with healthy reproductive systems getting pregnant each month is only about 25%. That percentage gets lower as a woman gets older. Joy.

I know all this is me going down the rabbit hole. Like I said, my imagination is not my friend right now. All these statistical thoughts sometimes get on a loop in my head. I try to imagine actually having a healthy pregnancy that ends with a healthy baby in my arms, but then I shut those thoughts down so I don’t “jinx it”. Like I’m a pre-teen hoping someone will ask me to the junior high dance as long as I don’t do something to throw off the cosmic balance.

I also try to remind myself that the chances of getting pregnant five days before your period hits are statistically low (really low), but when I got pregnant the first time, that’s exactly what happened.


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