Reflecting on my trip to Colombia in January 2019, I realize that some experiences remain hidden beneath the surface, known only to a select few. Today, I find the courage to share a deeply personal and traumatic chapter of that journey.
Journaling has always been my sanctuary, a place where I find strength and a sense of security, even during moments of self-doubt. Two days before boarding the plane to Colombia, I discovered I was three weeks pregnant—a revelation both unexpected and overwhelming. There was a mix of emotions; fear not because I felt unprepared for motherhood, but because I was about to embark on a trip while carrying a tiny life within me.
Our Colombian adventure started blissfully, filled with exploration and tasty cuisines. However, the turning point came during a beach tour when an unexpected complication arose on the return trip. The shock and uncertainty of bleeding profusely left me confused, stressed, and thousands of miles away from home.
The ordeal forced me to confront questions that lingered without clear answers. Was it a miscarriage, a "chemical pregnancy," or simply a complex manifestation of my body's response? In the midst of this uncertainty, we reached out to concierge services, my lifeline in that foreign land. The journey to the hospital became a whirlwind, and the language barrier heightened my sense of confusion and vulnerability. While I am fluent in Spanish, there were medical terminologies that confused me and left me with a sense of hopelessness.
The intervention of our concierge, Wilson, became a beacon of hope in that challenging moment. His advocacy broke through the initial resistance at the local prenatal center, granting me access to the care I desperately needed. In the examination room, no conclusive signs of a miscarriage emerged, leaving me in a state of further confusion.
Prescribed progesterone, my trip became a blend of sadness and hope, clinging to the possibility that I might return to the U.S. to hear a different verdict from my doctors. Sadly, reality struck, and the test results were negative. The remainder of 2019 became a delicate dance with emotions that I struggled to articulate.
It wasn't until my journey to Puerto Rico with my dear friend Stephanie that I found the courage to confront the buried feelings. The scenic beauty and the warmth of friendship created a space for healing. As the waves of the Caribbean lapped at the shore, I began to unravel the layers of emotions, acknowledging the pain, loss, and the strength that lay within.
This journey of healing has taught me that confronting our emotions is an essential part of the path forward. While the scars may remain, they become markers of resilience, reminding us of the strength we possess even in the face of life's unpredictable turns. As I share this experience, I hope it serves as a testament to the transformative power of confronting our pain and finding solace in the embrace of those who support us.
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