If only things could have been different...
I’d like to say I’ve been feeling pretty good emotionally lately. I really, really wish I could say that. I hesitate though, because would it be honest for me to say I’ve been doing well? I don’t know…sometimes, in particular moments or chunks of time in a day, I feel pretty good. I forget that I’m not 100%. I smile and laugh often enough. Andrew and I get up to our usual daily antics and adventures, and sometimes new ones, too. But there’s still a heaviness that plagues me, and the past few days it has been creeping up on me again, especially later in the day. I don’t know why, but dinner time-ish (and/or a bit before/bit after) often seems to be the worst for me.
Obviously the stress and pressure I feel to be pregnant sooner than later and worrying about the possibility that it might not happen the way I’m hoping is something that is getting to me. I’m not ‘obsessing’ about getting pregnant the way I did last month – even though it’s way too early to be testing, I’d have already at the very least bought some tests for the earliest possible moment I could use it! This time I’m hesitant to even allow myself to purchase any HPT’s till after I’m SURE I’m late, should I be late (although I don’t even know what that means anymore, given my screwed up cycle). I want to be hopeful, yet I’m terrified of hoping. I can’t even think about what I’ll be like if I’m NOT pregnant this time around, because I don’t want to go there AT ALL of I can help it. I hate the idea that this could be prolonged several more months, so I am trying to take the approach that I’ll deal with that should it happen, but hopefully that doesn’t happen. Despite making an effort to obsess less, I’m still obsessed – or maybe ‘worried’ is more the correct term.
The main thing that causes me to feel glum is still the loss of the baby. Should I have to say ‘still’? It has only been 4 months (and 4 days, to be precise). That’s not a very long time when you think about it. I’ve been told you can’t put a timeline on grief. My doctor told me that my loss was very real, and I should expect it to affect me in a similar way as losing a parent. That freaks me out, because I can’t imagine how I’d cope if either of my parents died. They both seem so fragile to me sometimes (ok, a lot of the time) and I worry about what kind of mess I’ll be when one or both of them is gone. I definitely can’t let my mind go there or I’ll go insane! But suffice it to say, the doctor seems to be correct, because I’ve been hit pretty darn hard with grief for my dead baby.
I just can’t stop thinking about it. How can I?? I still reach out for him or her in my mind, and it hits me all over again – the tragedy of it all. The shock of it. Sometimes…often…it’s as if it’s happening all over again, it’s so vivid in my mind. I want to let go, insofar as I don’t want to feel the intensity of the pain anymore, but I can’t seem to do that. I accept what happened to me…I guess. I mean, I have to, right? It happened, so I have to accept that. But…I don’t understand it. So maybe sometimes I find it difficult to accept it, given I don’t even understand why it happened. I am constantly nagged by the questions surrounding it. Why did it happen? What caused it? It wasn’t ‘just’ an early miscarriage (and I put that in quotes because a miscarriage at ANY time is tragic, so I don’t mean to be minimizing earlier miscarriages). The baby HAD to be 11 weeks developed – I am telling you with as much certainty as I can have, there is no way that the baby was less along than 11 weeks. That means it died very shortly before it came out of me. That means something happened at the 11 week mark. What was it?? The gynecologist I saw told me that miscarriages after 10 weeks that show a fetus are considered ‘suspicious.’ But without anyone else having seen the baby, it’s ultimately just my word that it was 11 weeks along…It’s impossible to ever have even an inkling of a clue as to why it happened. But it’s kind of eating me up not knowing. How can I carry this for the rest of my life? I realize that there are much worse weights to bear for one’s whole life than what I’m going through, but for me this is very serious, and I can’t minimize the pain because ‘it could be worse.’ I cringe at the thought that this could be worse! I know it could be, and yet I feel I’m suffering enough that I couldn’t handle anything worse.
I still sort of blame myself. Even if it wasn’t something I did consciously, because obviously it couldn’t have been anything I did on purpose. But how could I not have had anything to do with it? What did I do wrong? What was wrong with the baby? How did it get to the 11 week mark and then not make it? Why was this meant to happen to me? WAS this mean to happen to me? Or was it a mistake, this SHOULDN’T have happened to me, so it’s no wonder I’ve reacted so badly to it?!
I miss that baby more than words can say. I should be…let’s see…31 weeks right now. Wow. About 2 months away from meeting our second baby, hearing their little cry, seeing their little personality beginning to develop. Finding out if it was a boy or a girl. Feeling their warm soft skin against mine. I just feel sad for the image I’m left with instead, knowing it’s all I’ve got and all I ever will have of that baby. It seems unreal to me, totally unreal. How could that have happened to me? What changed? Why, why, WHY? Forever with the why’s.
I don’t obsess over it the way I did earlier on, although it probably sounds like I do when I write posts like this. I just find this to be the only source of release sometimes, and that’s why I go on about it here. I still talk to James about it sometimes, but ultimately what’s left to say? I go in circles, and I know it isn’t healthy. I know there’s nothing that can change what happened. So I try to just go on and get on with things and just ‘be’ and have some hope for the future. It’s just so hard sometimes. I miss the me I was before it happened, I wonder about the me I’d be if it hadn’t happened, and I’m a bit uneasy about the me I am currently. It just kind of sucks, what can I say.
I do have a strong support network, and I know there are people I can turn to. But sometimes I don’t want to talk about it, even though I’m thinking about it. I just need to mourn, I guess, and this is the way I’m doing it. I tend to pretend most of the time that it’s not plaguing me and that I’m fine and getting on with things. But I’d be lying big time if I said it wasn’t there…in kind of a big way. Always with me. A little bit of emptiness in my heart. My soul even. I feel crushed.
I’m signed up for a course to help cope with depression. I’m hoping it will offer some insight, and I might be able to focus better and see more clearly. I don’t know. I’m not THAT far gone, I cope fairly well. I just…really wish things could have been different.
Here’s hoping for some positive news in a few weeks time!! It would be such a relief to have some happy news to hold onto right now.