Where I Am At

The truth of a miscarriage is that the isolation is probably the worst part.  Your heart breaks for a while and that feels awful.  But it is the months afterward when everyone else around you forgets that this is your reality.  I think about the pregnancy and the miscarriage almost daily still and it have been 6 months.  To the day actually.  I feel isolation in nearly every aspect of my life.  My family has not even once acknowledged my grief.  Specifically, my mother has not once asked me if I am ok or if we are trying again or anything even remotely related to it.  She talks non-stop about my sister’s newborn, whom I love dearly, but she never stops to think about how her incessant talk about my nephew might make me feel.

These days my life consists of me surviving each day and trying to not obsess over trying to get pregnant.  My anger is overwhelming at times and my jealousy is rampant of other women who have babies or are pregnant.  My biggest fear is that I will never experience pregnancy and that is honestly too heartbreaking to even consider.  My life isn’t going as I had planned.  And the longer it takes and the worse I feel about it, the more intense the feeling of despair becomes. 

I am not a mother in the traditional sense.  I am a mother in the sense that I had a living human inside me and I had hopes and dreams for that baby.  My life was supposed to be different than this and the lack of control is something I cannot accept yet. 

I am getting to the point that I am just exhausted by the effort of trying to maintain normalcy.  I am also just plain tired of trying right now.  I won’t give up, but the reality of the situation is starting to sink in that we may actually have a problem getting pregnant.  A real problem, I mean.  I scheduled an appointment with an OB today who is a specialist for women who have been trying for more than one year and that have had a miscarriage.  I fit into both of those categories, so I finally took the step to make the appointment.  I can’t go until June due to work commitments and my need to focus on them, so I feel like I have a free pass until then.  I just want to relax and live life.  I am not so naïve that I think this can actually happen, but god dammit, I am at least going to try.


My Heart Skips a Beat

You would think that by now I am used to seeing people around me get pregnant.  But I am not.  At all.  No matter how prepared I feel like I am to encounter a new post on facebook, or an announcement on the internet, or a picture of a growing baby bump on instagram, when they actually pop up, my heart literally skips a beat and I feel a little like I am drowning.  I just can’t get over the fact that other people get to be pregnant and experience it and I am left behind and waiting.  It just doesn’t seem fair.  The more I think about it, the more I come to that conclusion.  Life is definitely not fair and I don’t really know how I can deal with that.  Especially in this circumstance.

One of the things I am having a hard time coming to terms with is the idea that I will never experience pregnancy in a carefree and simple way.  There will always be fear and with that, there will never be a feeling of security.  I know what can happen when it goes wrong and I know how it feels to have your dreams get squashed in a split second.  In addition to me feeling a moment of (or even as far as a few days) dread each time I see someone announce a pregnancy, I cringe inside because I wonder if they realize how incredibly fragile pregnancy is and how quickly it can change.

Sometime I wonder if my grief is normal.  Or if I am doing this right.  I feel like I should be over it by now and I am frustrated that I am still this upset about it.  I also am terrified that my body is refusing to get pregnant again because I am not really healed over the miscarriage.  Honestly, I just kind of think that my body is a huge jerk and can’t be trusted.  If only my epic desire to get pregnant again would trump my body’s inability.

I want to feel pregnancy again.  I want to be sick to my stomach and I want to feel excitement over a new life.  I was asked about 6 months ago why I wanted to have children and I still don’t really have an answer, but I know it is what I want.  I want to be a mother and I want to experience the ups and downs of being a parent.  But for now, I just want to be pregnant.  I want to have this experience and revel in it. I will not enjoy the sickness, but I will accept it and feel comfort by it.  I know this sounds strange, but the more symptoms I have, the better I will feel.  I will need the reassurance that my body is doing what it needs to do and if the result is a little sickness and discomfort on my part, I will more than gladly take it.

The Sadness

Some days the sadness just creeps up on me and surprises me in the middle of an otherwise perfectly fine day.  I can go weeks without having the sinking feeling, and then it just shows up again.  Yesterday I was driving in my car with M and out of nowhere I just felt overwhelmed with the black sadness and I wanted to cry.  I had to really pull it together and try to push through it.  These days I feel like I can do that, but before it was like a cloud constantly hanging over me and making me feel like crap.  Honestly, even today, 6 months later, I still don’t really feel happy.  I want to.  I really do.  I want to feel actual joy, but I just don’t have that ability right now.

The thing that no one tells you about a miscarriage is that it will stay with you for the rest of your life.  I was naive enough before the miscarriage to think that when it happens, you are sad and then you bounce back, but the truth is so different.  I won’t bounce back.  This will be with me and on my mind for the rest of my life.  And to add to the pain in general is the struggle to get pregnant again.  Each cycle that I don’t get pregnant again is like a reminder of what we lost.  And each cycle that doesn’t result in a pregnancy causes a little more worry and a little more stress and a little more urgency.  I passed the 5 month cycle mark last month, which was how long it took us to get pregnant the first time, and that added an additional little bit of worry and stress.

I want to talk about it.  I want to tell everyone I meet that I had this experience and I am still experiencing it on a daily basis.  I want to be able to voice how I feel on any given day and I want to be able to talk about how I feel each month when I am not pregnant again.  But the truth about miscarriage is that no one talks about it.  I have a support group and they are amazing.  These ladies understand exactly what I am talking about and what I feel.  My best friend understands, she’s been there and is going through this with me, step by step.  And M, he knows I am not ok, but he is moving on and he’s patiently waiting for me to catch up.  But everyone else around me, they have no idea.  They think I am doing ok, and even that makes me feel weird and kind of crappy.  People who haven’t had a miscarriage or still birth have no idea of the complexity of what goes on in a woman’s mid following a miscarriage.

For now, I am trying to slowly move on and follow the best advice from one of my favorite people, Walt Disney.  We Keep Moving Forward…