There are no words to describe the emotions that I feel. I am still in a state of shock, and I know this isn’t easy for Mark either. There really is no way for someone to understand the pain that you go through when you lose a child you never got to meet, unless they have experienced it for themselves. Of course its sad, of course you have sympathy but you really have no idea. You already probably know a woman who has had at least one miscarriage, but you may not realize it. Miscarriage is one of the most common types of loss, but one of the least discussed and for me I need to let it out and move on.
We just got back from the doctor’s office, I needed to get a second opinion to make sure I really was as far along as they thought I was. The doctor confirmed it and after weighing out all of our options we have decided to proceed with the surgery this week and allow my body to have a fresh start. I don’t think I can sit around and “wait ” to miscarry. I am tired of waiting and I just want this to be over with. Plus having the surgery will allow my body to recuperate faster than having to wait and wonder when I will actually pass the pregnancy and if my body can even do it without complications. I’m not going to lie, I am scared. I have never had any type of surgery before so I know that I will be freaking out the day of the surgery but I need to move on. I am going to take this weekend to grieve and try to accept what has happened and pick myself up off the floor and go back at it. I have to be strong for our future child, as much as I just want to give up because I can’t imagine going through this process again, my child is worth that. He/She will be worth every emotion, every bad day, every ounce of pain I have to go through and I want him/her to know that one day.
Like all sudden loss, our grief was seismic: there was the great initial shock, then a myriad of lesser tremors: Diapers commercials. Another couple announcing their pregnancy every time one of us logs on Facebook The entire stage full of teen moms on Maury Povich. These things are always happening, but after months of trying to conceive and THEN a miscarriage, you take every successful pregnancy personally.
I know this wont stop the questions from well-intentioned friends and coworkers. Even seemingly innocuous ones such as “How are you doing?” will be aggravating because its pretty clear that the questioner probably doesn’t want a truthful response. I mean really, how the hell do you think I’m doing? Let’s see, our future child is dead, its decaying remnants are still inside of me; I’m going to have to be anesthetized and undergo a potentially dangerous surgery, one that might make it even more difficult for us to have children, as if we needed any help there.
That sounds bitter and angry—and I was/am—but the anger was/is directed at the situation, not the friend or family member. It’s impossible not to be angry after a miscarriage, and in retrospect, this may be one reason that miscarriage isn’t discussed: friends and family are often rebuffed right away, so they don’t bring up the issue later, when the mother and father are more capable of reflecting on it.
I know that I am going to be lost for a while, I am going to have to accept the fact that I am no longer pregnant. This is going to be a process for me and it is going to take time. I feel like I just expect myself to get over it(remember I’m a tough love kind of person) but in all reality it’s just not possible and I need to realize that is it okay for me to grieve and feel sad.
I truly believe that God only puts you through certain things to make you stronger. This has broken me for now but I WILL pick up the pieces. I have been very lucky to have such a wonderful husband by my side as well as my mother and a wonderful support system.
And for my little bean…
I may have only carried you for a short moment, but you will always live in my heart.
Until Next Time…