Throat Punch Thursday ~ A Miscarriage, a Due Date & the Misery in Between
The other day, my 5-year-old, Gabs walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of jeans that she had outgrown. She was being silly. We laughed because they were practically up to her knees and wouldn’t button. My unsuspecting heart was happy and then she said, “It’s okay Mommy, we can just save these for the next baby you have.” And just like that my eyes were stinging and my vision was getting blurry and I wanted to fall to the floor and assume the fetal position as the knife in my heart worked itself out.
Today, my heart is heavy because I’ve always been induced the week before my due date & that would be this week. I want to scream and cry and break things.
It’s been almost 7 months & I’m still randomly breaking down in fits of grief, sadness and anger. My due date was supposed to be November 24, 2012. I am angry because I’m supposed to be holding a new baby in my arms and I will never get to hold that baby. I just want to be left alone on my due date. I know next Saturday that I will know THAT is the day that I should be meeting my baby but instead I’ll be doing some inconsequential thing that doesn’t matter and it doesn’t feel right. Something monumental should happen to mark this magnanimous occasion, if nothing else to commemorate the fact that I have survived the pain.
Everyone we love is coming for Thanksgiving on Thursday and I am happy to have them but Saturday everyone has to be gone. I need to be alone, that is how I process my pain. I go inside my head. I write it down. I do it alone.
It’s not going to be pretty. I can feel the pain and anger swelling up inside me, bubbling right beneath the surface. I’m so angry and sad and frustrated. Frustrated that I have no one to talk to, no way to let go, no way to get over it or have closure just pain. I’m mad and I want to throat punch whatever made this happen. I miss this baby who I never got to meet more than any other person I’ve ever lost. There is a connection with this little person and me and when he/she died, so did a part of me.
Can someone please tell me how you carry on after a miscarriage? I go through my days pretending I’m fine, willing myself to be fine but I’m not fine.
I feel like I can’t talk to anyone except for my beautiful sister Mel who,unfortunately, shares this experience but I hate to open her wounds.She is the only one who understands my misery and pain. Quite honestly I feel like the Big Guy wants to put it behind him and forget this ever happened. He never really got to talk about how he felt because he was so busy trying to keep me from falling apart. He surrounded me with love and picked up the pieces as fast as they were falling apart. He’s my hero. But it did happen to us, to me, and I can’t get past it because it’s right here with me always to remind me.
At dinner the other night, the family at the next booth had a newborn and it hurt me to see their beautiful baby. I saw what I recognized as commiseration in my husbands eyes. Maybe I imagined it. But for a moment, we were both painfully reminded of what we were supposed to be doing next week, having our baby. I wanted to take away the tinge of sadness that I thought I saw in his eyes. I wanted to make him all better. I feel like I let him and the girls down by losing this baby. My body failed us all.
I hate that I feel this way. I hate that this is one thing that I can’t fix and no one can fix it for me. I always feel like either I’m grieving too much or too little because what’s the right amount? Either I’m happy and I feel like a jerk because I have this massive hole in my heart that I should be trying to mend or I’m randomly crying over something I can’t change and everyone else’s moved on.
I feel like those closest to us have forgotten; like it never happened. I feel like if I bring it up the room gets really quiet and everyone gets uncomfortably silent, shaking their heads awkwardly and wishing I’d change the subject. Praying I’d stop making them so uncomfortable. Wanting to stop my pain and wishing I could let it go. But it’s not me hanging on. The grief won’t let me go.
How do you ever stop missing someone that you loved more than everything, your child? If you have had a pregnancy or child loss, how did you get through it? How did you get closure? How do I make it stop hurting so much?