Women’s traumatic experiences are made light of with weird, evasive language. No wonder so many end up with PTSD
It was the day before my nephew’s barmitzvah, almost 20 years ago, when family and friends would gather to celebrate my sister’s son’s coming of age. After nine years, my parents had just accepted my wife into the family: this was going to be an important moment for us as a couple. But it wasn’t the happy event I’d hoped for.
My wife and I had already told my parents – and others – that we were pregnant. I wanted a boy, and we knew his name: Eli. That day before the barmitzvah, I was due to have the all-important first scan where a heartbeat would be detected – but when I woke that morning I knew something was wrong.
Our friends enjoyed our good news and grieved with us in our sad news. Who do we protect if we remain silent?
Continue reading...from Pregnancy | The Guardian https://ift.tt/37adUqI
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