As of next Monday it will have been a month since I miscarried. I’m still actually pregnant but without fetus. My pregnancy hormone levels have still not returned to normal. My heart is still shattered. I’m dealing with so many inner demons I never knew I had, and maybe I didn’t have until all of this happened. I’m angry, I’m depressed, and then I’m happy again. I think I’m very much all of those all at once. From what I’ve read and what I have been told, I will never be the same again. The pain will become less, each day will get easier, but I will always hurt because of this.
We told our friends and family too soon in the pregnancy. We were just so excited that we could not keep it to ourselves. Then I miscarried, shortly after making the announcement. So a few things happened as a response: those who did not know what to say, said nothing at all; OR people wrote it off as if it had been no big deal what happened to us. Miscarriages happen all the time, one in four women go through it, but it does not make it any less devastating. My loneliness turned into anger, and I’m still dealing with that. People we had been there for, shown support to, people we love, left us alone and did not dare reach out to us. We needed the support. We needed to know we were loved. We needed people to be there for us. They were not. It’s an extremely touchy subject, I get that.
NOT to be TMI or anything, but I did not just miscarry. I was in the worst pain of my life. I was in so much pain that I thought I was going to die. I would like to lend a big “F^%# YOU” to anyone who thinks I sat on the toilet for two minutes to pass the baby. I passed the baby naturally. That means there was a lot of blood loss, I was having nauseous fits where I lost more than I think I’d ever put in, I had a fever, I had severe cramping that I was told was actual labor pain. Oh, but I did not get to hold a beautiful baby in my arms after all was said and done. I was told to be happy, that it could have been worse, try again next time. I did get the chance to flush my child down the toilet, so there’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life.
We did not just lose a pregnancy. We lost our dreams for the future. We lost what we had nine weeks to plan, the life of our child, who they would be, what they would like and would not, who they would become, what they would do… The life that they would’ve had.
I lost what little confidence I had in myself and my body. Woman’s purpose (in all basic terms, do not get all feminist on me here) is to bear life. I had to FIGHT to get there, and then I was still not good enough.
I hope that when we do go to try again, we will not have to go through this. There are no guarantees. With my pituitary tumor, the hormone imbalances that could occur, who knows. My heart is completely broken. My confidence is lost.
I’m angry. I’m depressed. I am so far from being myself it’s ridiculous.
This was supposed to be a post about what I’ve done to heal, but it’s obvious now that I’m no where near healed. I feel like I’m back tracking more than anything. The reality of the situation is starting to sink in. I was finally pregnant after trying fifteen months. We were going to be parents FINALLY. But instead, our dream was ripped away from us. We were left empty handed with very little understanding and support.
This was written in anger. This was written with a broken heart. This was written from my lowest point. This was written to be therapeutic. This was not written to offend, but if it did, I’m NOT sorry.
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