Universe 3 - Me 1

I'm reviving the Happy Ranter for this post, and possibly a few subsequent ones, because this is where my other sad stories are. I feel like they belong together, in one spot.

On January 5^th, 2014 I had the pleasure of a positive home pregnancy test. On February 12^th, I had an ultrasound and the joy of seeing our baby and its healthy heartbeat. On February 28^th, I learned that little heartbeat had stopped and my heart broke.

If you've followed this blog, or have looked through the archives, you'll know that this isn't my first loss. I'm familiar with how this process will go. I know that only time is going to ease the pain. Only acknowledging my grief and letting it run it's course will get me through to the other side. But right now I'm in the thick of it and I wanted to write this out. This is part of how I deal with pain and even if no one reads it, my story will be here for me. I'll be able to come back to it in a few weeks, months or years and measure how far I've come. But I'll also be able to remember, which is also just as important.

My previous losses were very early in my pregnancies, over almost before they'd even begun. Painful none the less, because the hope, love and joy of what was wrapped up in that all came to a crashing end. This time....I don't know that I'm more sad than I was before, but there is a difference. This time I saw the heartbeat. This time I felt great, like I did during my pregnancy with Sadie. We had slowly started to tell people, parents mostly, because everything was looking so good and because we were so damn close to the 2^nd trimester. And then it all just....stopped. Suddenly it was just over.

As someone who dealt with infertility for years, and as someone who has had a baby, I've read a lot of material on the subjects and so I knew, academically, what to expect from this miscarriage. To be honest, the physical process over the past few days has been less physically painful than I thought it would be. The emotions of it though caught me off guard. I've never had anything happen to me before that I could call traumatic. I've been lucky. I am still lucky because there are worse things. My rational brain knows that.

And yet, my baby this time was no longer an embryo. My baby had officially reached fetus status. My baby had substance and weight and was a perfectly formed, though tiny, being. No one – the ER doctor, my midwife, books I have read – prepared me for what I went through. I'm not going to describe everything here in detail. I don't have the strength for that and I don't think I have the words. What I do want to say is that what I went through in the wee small hours of Saturday morning, while my family was sleeping, is something that has changed me. It has marked my heart and I will never be the same.

Those moments were some of the most terrible I've ever had but there was also love and sweetness. There was a feeling of incredible loss but thankfulness for the chance to say goodbye. I'll never let go of my love for my baby but eventually I will be able to make some peace with what happened. I just won't be the same me. I'm okay with that, too. I am not weaker for the experience, although my strength has left me momentarily.

I haven't been sleeping well. I don't want to go to bed at night because I don't feel tired but I do because I know my body needs the rest. I do fall asleep but I dream about babies, about children and it isn't very restful. I feel like I'm not getting a break. But do I want a break? Today was my first day alone in a quiet house since everything happened. At random intervals, regardless of what I was doing, I broke down and sobbed. Full, body wracking sobs, blinded by tears, and feeling like I was going to split in two. A minute or two later and I'd be fine again. Like it never happened. Then the whole process would repeat itself. I know this is something that I need, too. I know it but I don't particularly like it.

What I have found the most difficult to deal with are the moments when I forget that our baby is gone. Thoughts pop into my head about what we'll do when the baby is here and in the next instance I remember. It surprises me every single time. I never experienced that with my previous losses. I have a terrible feeling that I'm going to start talking to someone about being pregnant and realize mid sentence that I no longer am. My brain needs to catch up with my body and I hope it does soon. It will, eventually. One small step at a time.

A friend posted this on facebook today, and I thank her for it. Sometimes we all need to know it's okay.

http://chibird.com/

Sad Ranter

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?