So, I want to try and write about it, but at the same time, I want to just go through it alone so no one knows how I weak I am. How hard this is. But I have found it incredibly helpful and therapeutic to read about others’ experiences (like Jonna, Michelle, and Kathleen), so I here I am. Sharing.
I always thought it was terrible, but I had no idea just how hard it would be. To have something you fear so much happen is…well, it just sucks so much. When I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of March, I was elated. I jumped around our apartment with my mouth agape, unable to speak for several minutes, just making weird shrieking sounds. I kept it a secret from Mike for 24 hours so I could tell him in a fun way. We both got teary-eyed and hugged when he found out.
Now I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to have that experience again without some mixed feelings. Fear and joy.
Just when I think I’m going to have a normal day, an ordinary day when I work and do laundry and clean and make dinner without sobbing into the sleeve of my sweatshirt, the grief punches me in the face (credit for that apt phrase goes to Jonna). I don’t know how to grieve. Although a lot of people want to tell me how to do it. That I’m too sad, not sad enough. There are worse things. I know this. I do have perspective. I do know how lucky I am to have Gabe. I do. I do. It just still hurts.
This is seriously the most extreme roller coaster I’ve ever experienced. One minute, it’s “This is normal. This is common. I will have another baby soon.” And the next, I’m crying and fearing that something is more deeply flawed with my body and that I’ll experience loss after loss and become a miserable, bitter human. From level-headed and handling it well to read-too-many-miscarriage-forums, basically. It’s just the severity of the change of mood that takes me aback.
I hope I get to experience having a healthy pregnancy and birth and baby again. But right now, I just want that baby. That baby who was due November 15. Every time I look at events coming up in May and June, I think, “I was going to be in my second trimester for that. Now I am nothing.”
I was crying and asked Mike to please make sure it never happened to me again. He said we could get a dog instead. He brings the levity to our family.
I told Gabe there is no more baby in my belly. He told me, “We haveta get it back!” Oh, sweet boy.
We got some disappointing news from insurance about my coverage for the procedure. I’m trying not to stress about money on top of stressing about our chances of having a second child, but really, universe? Mike said we can use our retirement money. No flaws in that plan, right?
Most of all from this experience, I have learned how to be a good friend. And who the good ones are. They shove their way in. They aren’t afraid of being around suffering or hurt. (And as someone who is totally terrified of seeing other people’s suffering, I understand why some people feel like they have no idea what to say and therefore say nothing at all. I totally get it. I do. But it makes me appreciate the reacher-outers even more.)
It’s been a dark few weeks in my life. But I can’t help but look outside and notice that suddenly there are leaves on everything. That all of the darkness and rain of early spring has brought beauty and life. I really, really hope that the same will be true for my future.