It’s been awhile since I last posted anything. To be honest, it’s been awhile since I even looked at or thought about my blog. My brain has been otherwise occupied.
If you’ve read previous posts then you’ll know all about my TTC (trying to conceive) woes. I thought it was as bad as it could get but Life decided to bitch-slap me. At the beginning of February I got the one thing I’ve been wanting for so long - a positive on a home pregnancy test. Because I’d been having some spotting, my doctor sent me for repeat blood tests to monitor my hormone (hCG) levels. The two weeks following that first test were torture as my levels went slowly up (far more slowly than they should have) and then as they started to fall. Another week later and it was all over. The physical pain when I actually miscarried was so much worse than any of my usual cramps. At least that pain was over in a day - the pain in my heart just won’t quit.
I thought I was doing alright through the month of March. Obviously, those first few days were hard and I shed a lot of tears but apart from a few moments of anxiety and blinding rage, I thought I was holding myself together pretty well and moving past it all.
Last week I came to the realization that that just isn’t true. Lately, I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything for any length of time. I find myself staring off into space and feel like I’ve been losing chunks of time. I alternate between fighting to hold back tears and fighting to keep myself from screaming at people. I’ve been losing both of these fights with greater frequency.
The first week in April would have been the 12 week mark had the pregnancy continued. That’s when the Boy and I would have started sharing the news. It doesn’t take a genius to put that together with my increasing difficulties and come to an obvious conclusion. I like to think of myself as being a pretty strong person but this is crushing me.
I know all of the rational things I should be telling myself and that others, including my doctor, have told me. Things like ‘At least now you know you can get pregnant’, ‘At least you weren’t further along’ and ‘There was probably something wrong and your body just knew what to do’. Believe me, I am glad to know that I can get pregnant and I’m grateful it wasn’t an ectopic pregnancy. All of those things, while true, aren’t a magic balm that soothes the pain.
I’ve been talking with a counsellor and doing my own reading - the word ‘grief’ has been coming up a lot. I found an article online (which I can’t find again since I came across it randomly in the first place) that talked about the grief that follows a miscarriage. It’s different from grieving for someone who’s died because you don’t have the memories of the person to bring you comfort. Instead, you’re grieving for all the hopes you had, for the future you imagined that’s now slipped from your fingers. It’s hard for me to even understand my own sadness. How I can I miss so much someone I never even had the chance to meet?
One of the issues I’m struggling with is the feeling of failure. My own body has betrayed me. Worse, it’s betrayed my husband. The initial reaction to the positive pregnancy test was stunned excitement. I can deal with my own disappointment but how do I deal with his? Telling my parents about my loss wasn’t any easier. Everyone has been completely supportive but I still feel like I’ve let them all down.
Bigger than the sense of failure is my anger. I’m so ANGRY that this has happened. I want to know why but there is no answer to that question. There is no physical problem that can be pointed at and named as the culprit. It’s just ‘one of those things’. Would I feel better if the doctor was able to say ‘Well, X is the reason you miscarried’? I don’t know. I guess I would at least feel like if there’s a known problem, there might be a known solution or things to try.
There isn’t though. There isn’t a single concrete reason that anyone can give me. All I’m left with is trying to work through it. How I’m supposed to do that, I’m not quite sure. I can talk about it, write about it, think about it until the end of time and it won’t change.
Time is supposed to be the great healer, and I know that it is. I know that eventually this won’t hurt as much as it does. I wish I knew when that time would be. I wish I could see that point on the horizon when I won’t feel like screaming and when I won’t randomly burst into tears for no apparent reason.
I know I’ll get there eventually. I’m fortunate that I’ve been able to take this week off of work. Having the luxury of not having to use my brain for a good solid length of time has been good for me. There are also some life changes being set in motion and I think that will be good for me too.
*disclaimer* I hope I haven’t made it sound like I’m a complete mess all the time. Most of my turmoil has been going on inside. There has only been the occasional meltdown or outburst of expletives. Really, what else is new?
