How could it be one week already...

A week ago about this time, I was no doubt crying.  I was scared because I didn’t know if my baby was OK or if I should be expecting the worst.  I wanted to have hope and be positive that things were going to be fine, but with the pain I was in and the bleeding I was increasingly experiencing, I became very frightened.  Deep down I think I had some inkling that things were not alright, but of course until I went through it all, I couldn’t have imagined how it would all play out.  I certainly could not have imagined how it would affect me over the course of the next week.  I have no idea, now, how to look at the future.  Everything feels so uncertain to me.  I can’t be sure of anything, and while ‘living each moment like it could be your last’ is the ideal, I’m realizing it’s not a way of living that makes me feel secure.  I want to be able to live each moment like I have tons of them left, and I also want the added benefit of knowing that all my loved ones also have tons of them left!  Don’t we all, I know…

I really can’t believe it will be one week in less than 12 hours that ‘I knew’ with 100% certainty I was losing my baby.  It feels like it just happened 5 minutes ago, it is so very raw and real and fresh in my mind.  I battle thoughts of it every single second of every single day.  In that sense, it feels like it has been years already that I’ve been feeling this emotional pain.  The physical pain I can handle, but the emotional rollercoaster is really taking its toll.

I stopped bleeding yesterday afternoon.  I should breath a sigh of relief that at the very least it’s unlikely I have anything to worry about infection-wise, or having to have any sort of operation to ensure there is nothing left behind.  I AM relieved that this is the case, because I was worried that there could be further complications that could potentially cause more risks with a future pregnancy should I ever have one.  I really am grateful that the bleeding has stopped, but I also feel sad about it in the sense that it means it really is ‘over’ and there’s nothing of my baby left inside me.  Well, that’s not entirely true, because I won’t let that be the case.  You better believe that my baby is still very much inside of me!  It’s just that having the baby in my heart and soul…isn’t enough.

I continue on with nothing about this being a good thing for me.  I feel like in some ways it’s bringing me closer to James, but the thing is, I was already so close to him, I didn’t need something drastic to make me think more deeply about how much he means to me.  I appreciate how ‘there for me’ he has been through this and will no doubt continue to be – but in all honesty I’d have expected as much because that’s just the way he is.  I KNOW he loves me, I didn’t need this as a test about that.  And I thank my lucky stars every day that I have Andrew and just reading back on my archives is proof that I love and appreciate him more than anything.  I did not need this as a test to remind me of how much my boy means to me.  Or even how fragile life is – I am well aware of that fact, believe you me.  I SO didn’t need this to confirm that!

I don’t know why I am so desperate to make sense of everything and make it out that there has to be a reason for everything.  Most things in life can make enough sense that we can compartmentalize with relative ease, but when it comes to something like this…There is no good reason for it, and I don’t believe that my baby needed to be somewhere else more than he or she needed to be with me.  That just doesn’t make sense to me.  I like to think my baby was brought to me for some particular reason, but why my baby was taken away before we even had a chance for anything is totally beyond me.  I will never figure that one out.

I go over and over and over it all in my head so often that I am possibly just a little bit more crazy than I was before this happened.  In fact, I know I am!  Maybe I’m over-analyzing, but I don’t know how else to react.  Every time I close my eyes, I flash back to particular moments in time that destroy a part of me a little more each time.  When my eyes are open, my heart just aches, and I still see those images in amongst everything else I see.

I do smile sometimes, and I even laugh.  But even when I’m able to see the lightness in a moment, the pain is still very much there.  I find myself sighing deeply a lot, and just sort of hunching.  I still have that I-really-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-myself feeling where I just feel antsy and beside myself.  I pace around sometimes because I can’t stand being idle. 

I have regrets, and that’s one of the hardest things to deal with, because usually I try my best not to ever regret anything in my life.  I’ve always figured that everything in my life had to happen the way it did in order for me to be where I am today.  Up until a week ago, I really had no reason to make the argument that I’d truly want to change things and be going in a different direction.  Sure, I’ve lost people I was close to, and the pain was very real and I don’t want to minimize those times.  But losing my own baby, seeing my baby, and losing it again, all in the matter of a few hours…I feel as though I have regrets, even though I don’t really know what I should be regretting.  Should I be regretting not going to bed earlier, or drinking even one cup of coffee a day when caffeine should be avoided?  What if the one time I took a mild pain killer before I knew I was pregnant made my baby not develop properly from the get go?  What if it was my egg that was faulty?  I obsessed over getting pregnant pretty much immediately after going off the pill as everything I’d read and been told said that the pill couldn’t be harmful to my baby even if only a hint of it was left in my body.  But what if that was it?  What if I got pregnant before my body was in the best state for it?  Then it’s my fault that my baby died because I should have been thinking more into the future and not into those few weeks where I just ‘had’ to become pregnant?  I have a lot of ‘what if’s’. 

And maybe my regrets circle more around not being more outspoken once everything started to go downhill.  In the first ultrasound the night before my miscarriage, the doctor looked but ‘saw nothing’ in the gestational sac.  The little black mark he was pointing to saying it was the gestational sac?  I saw nothing in it either, and that made me cry.  But I swear with 99.8% certainty that I saw my baby on that screen, just waaaay lower down than where he said the sac was.  I felt like I saw a really clear image but only for a single moment, and then he was moving the wand over my belly faster and in bit of a different spot.  He didn’t go back to where I swear I saw my baby.  Now I wonder, why didn’t I speak up and say, Hey, I think I see my baby, right THERE!  Why didn’t I do that???  No, I would not still be carrying my baby now if I had asked, but I might feel like I had SOME sort of an answer to SOMETHING.  Instead, all I am left with is question after question.  No pictures were taken during that first ultrasound so it’s not even something I can look back on and say, see, there it is.

I also wish so badly that someone had reminded me or warned me OR SOMETHING about the god damn mother fucking self flushing toilet that I want to go back to and smash to smithereens.  I am so sad and so angry and so UPSET about that, you have no idea.  Actually, I’m sure you have some, since I’ve also been obsessing about it on this here blog.  But I can’t help it.  It is the image that plagues me the most.  I honestly think I’d be willing to give my right arm to be able to go back in time and actually get my baby out of that FUCKING TOILET.  I might later regret the fact that I had no right arm, and essentially no baby either since it wasn’t alive…But I’m just trying to make a point about how much that particular moment in time is distressing me.  IIIIII WAAAAAANT MMMYYYYY BBBAAABBBYYY BAAAAAACK.

I know I really have to stop obsessing, I have to learn to accept, I have to try to move on.  But the feeling is not going away, and I can’t deny the fact that each day that passes without my baby, I feel a little bit emptier.  I know it’s still early days, but how many days do I get to feel this way?  How many days can I wallow in?  Right now I feel like I need to wallow, to self-pity, to just feel like absolute crap because that’s just how it is for me right now.  I NEED that.  I don’t want to just be strong and continue on, I want to just cry and feel sad because it’s honestly the only thing that feels natural to me at the moment.  I don’t know what to make of that, but it’s how I feel.  I’m not saying I DO wallow constantly etc, because I still have my boy to take care of and I have to go about some regular daily life type stuff as there is no other option.  But I do feel like I need to ‘just grieve’ and sink into that far enough at least to figure out what to make of it so maybe eventually I CAN move on.  Not sure if that’s the best way to put how I feel, it’s very hard to put into words, but in a round about way, this is it.


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