I've decided

I'm not going to beat around the bush if people at work (or volunteers) ask me why I was gone last week.
I realize that this will probably make people feel uncomfortable. And probably a little guilty for asking. But that's not why I'm doing it. I'm going to tell them, "I had a miscarriage which resulted in surgery" because I have nothing to be ashamed of. If I had a heart attack, stroke or accident, it wouldn't be any different.
I think it's fair to let people know so that a) they know why I'm taking it a little easy, physically and b) that I wasn't on some fantastic vacation during the busiest time of my job. OK, part of me is so that once I answer their question with a very honest and frank answer, the subject is abruptly closed. If this wasn't my busiest time of year, I would probably take two weeks off. But I can't. And, according to the handy directions (four pages long, mind you) given by my doctor, it is advised that I try to go back to normal as soon as possible. So, tomorrrow, I go back to work.
Yes, it's personal and again, will probably make people uncomfortable. While I won't share this piece of information, this was my second miscarriage in four months. I'll be honest, I'm traumatized. I try to be very matter-of-fact about it and, most times, I convince myself that it's clinical, above all else.
But there are moments, these moments that I have, in which the overwhelming sadness takes hold of me and I tear up. I know I'm blessed, absolutely blessed, to have the beautiful daughter that I have and the life that I lead. And I swear, I tell myself that every day. But sometimes that damn sadness takes over even though I try my hardest to silence those thoughts, they come anyway.
So why not be honest about what happened?