Before I really tell you my story of healing, let me acknowledge that there is no right way or wrong way to experience grief. There is no luck. There are no at least's… There are no "try again" answers that you will want or need to hear. No one can tell you to
feel better and no one has the right to make you feel like your grief is less than what it is. You will feel everything on your own. There are no easy miscarriages and there are no rule
books for grieving or healing. It's your prayer that had been answered. It's the future you had imagined. It's your pain. Most importantly, it's your baby and it's your time to heal. In my case, there was pain and confusion and
embarrassment. The inability to tell my loved ones… My heart was broken and
this burden, this guilt, this anguish, fear, pain, anger…emptiness, sadness, was mine
alone. I didn't want anyone else to experience it. I was awful.
The day after our loss, I came home. I slept. I cried. I cried and I kept crying.. I
don’t know, for days? For weeks? I found myself randomly bursting into
tears. My face was swollen and
sore. My curtains were closed. I
slept on the air mattress in our living room. I only got up to use the bathroom and that in
itself was terrifying.
I remembered sitting and thinking, my god, I
couldn’t ask for anything more in this precious life. I had the health of my
baby, my husband, my home. Everything was just how I had imagined it. And then
suddenly that was gone. My house was dark. I was afraid to be alone. I no
longer had my baby.
I avoided the phone calls.
We were four and a half months along. I had just quit my job
to dedicate my time to being healthy.
I had started our nursery. It’s beautiful, but for weeks and weeks after
our miscarriage, it felt like a beautiful tomb. My body felt so empty. I felt
hollow. I felt like I had been betrayed by my body and that was the scariest
thing. I couldn’t look in the mirror. I was scared to see the place my baby had
been. I was scared to see what was left... or not left.
Two weeks later… I started searching for answers. I started
looking into statistics. I started looking for reasons. I was recommended a
group for grieving women… I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to
share. I went through random periods where I felt as though maybe it was better
that I hurt so bad. Maybe hurting is better and maybe it’s what I deserved.
These statistics… These were daunting. They seemed to justify the pain. After
the emptiness, the pain just felt better.
Miscarriages… They’re something that we don’t really talk
about openly. The problem is that they are all too common and there are rarely any answers. I believe that one
in four pregnancies will end in miscarriage. In my case, the percentage is only
three. I’m not sure if reading this made mine hurt more for me. I’m not sure if
it made the situation feel more dire… I don’t know, but it is daunting. I’ve
been average my whole life… Why was I forced to experience this? Statistically,
that should not have been me. Right? I felt like someone had made a mistake and the fear of being unable to carry took over for a long time.
There are a lot of tools available. You are really just a
google search, a blog, a secret pinterest page away from finding some comfort.
In my case, these tools were there for me later… I mean much later… Later
because I had to go down further. I had to find a weird and dark side of my
personality that I didn’t think was there. I became more anxious. I thought I
was dying. I was scared to leave the house or use the phone and … well, that
made me happy. It made me happy until it didn’t. I found that one day I cried a
little less than the day before. I started showering and putting on a little
makeup. I started forcing myself to go outside, even if it was just to let the
dog pee. I walked into our nursery without holding my breath. I thought about
our baby instead of distancing myself from him. I cut my hair and I started writing. I went to dinner with my husband and
then I realized that I deserved better than this pain. I realized that he also
deserved better that this pain. It was time to work through it.
So, I kept doing the research. It was scary. I found a new
doctor. I started reading blogs and I found familiar voices. I started sharing
with small groups of friends and family. I started talking. In talking, I found
that even though statistically I was in the three percent, I had so many women
sharing their experiences and offering words of support and care and encouragement
and I found that I was less afraid. I also found that we as women feel isolated
and ashamed and scared. We do not have to feel this way. We are remarkable
beings with immense amounts of compassion for each other. Someone you know has been through this.
I can tell you like so many others, that it will get better.
It will. You will feel better. I can tell you this because it’s true, but I can’t
make you feel better. It’ll just happen the way it happens for you. One day,
you’ll see or hear something that will simultaneously make you happy… and sad.
You’ll experience your first bittersweet moment and then your life will start
to begin again, my friend.
Just remember, you’re not alone. I know you hurt. It is not your fault.Take your
time and when you’re ready, we’re here for you.
So, on the next lil blog, we’ll start with how I stared living my new life.
Below are a few links to explore. They all have great and insightful info if you or someone you know is experiencing loss.
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