MY MISCARRIAGE STORY
I miscarried in Paris in the winter of 2013.
I was staying at Four Seasons there and woke up in the middle of the night.
I thought I was going to bleed to death in the bathroom.
The pieces of flesh I was continually gushing away let me know that attempting to speak French and go to a hospital would be useless at that point.
Due to the state of my marriage on the way to divorce, I had to go through it alone and never told anyone but my big sister.
In hindsight, I was extremely sick by the time I got to Switzerland two days later.
I should have gotten medical attention but never did, sadly.
My relationship issues overshadowed the trauma at the time, so I’m still processing all these years later.
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