Tag:

Miscarriage

Ann Romney, Mitt Romney, miscarraige, grief,loss

Throat Punch Thursday~ Condescending Politicians Edition

by Deborah Cruz 2012/08/30

Ann Romney Over shares for Votes

Ann Romney today you are the recipient of the Throat Punch. I’ve made it very clear that I feel that the politicians should back the fuck out of my uterus. Well, now they have their wives trying to sneak them in the back way and that really pisses me off. What’s worse is they have taken to using a personal tragedy to wiggle their way into our votes. Fuck that, I see you!

In an interview earlier this week, Ann Romney spontaneously and irrelevantly burst into a speech about a miscarriage that she went through when she was in her 40’s. It’s sad for sure. I hate that any woman ever has to go through that loss and experience such a huge devastation in life; for that, my heart breaks for the Romneys. The part that bugs the piss out of me is that in the video it seemed as if the entire thing were done to make the Romney’s more approachable; more relatable. Let me be blunt. Ann Romney and her spiel didn’t seem very authentic to me. It seemed like a ploy to get the female population’s vote and that, my friends, is disgusting and despicable.

I am not saying that she did not experience a miscarriage. I am not saying that her family was not devastated. I am not saying that I am not sorry for her loss. My heart breaks for any and every single woman, even if her husband is trying to rob the rest of us women of our reproductive rights, who has ever known this life altering pain but why now? Why disclose it now? Why is it relevant now? The only answer my mind can come up with is for the votes.

Ann Romney is Mitt’s Biggest Fan

In the interview, she goes off on a Stepford wife like tangent about having the miscarriage and then telling her children before leaving to the hospital. She dropped a bomb and then left before it went off. That seems kind of like an asshole thing to do to me. Then she recounts how when her 10 or 11 year old son ( yes, she was not sure.Which I found bizarre as well. I remember the day my miscarriage happened vividly and I remember the year and how old my kids were and their reactions. How can you be confused about the year? My miscarriage is burned into my brain like a torturous scar earned from surviving the hardest day of my life this far) came home and collapsed on the floor with grief. I believe that. Telling my children about our miscarriage was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

His mother told him heartbreaking news and then sent him off to school to digest it, alone. I don’t know why Ann Romeny is telling people this. It only served to piss me off more. In the interview, Mitt Romney looked moved and said that Ann never told him about how his son reacted that day. Where the fuck was Mitt? Your wife just had a miscarriage. She should be in bed dealing with her own grief, Mitt should have been the one meeting the kids when they got home from school and comforting them. Where was he? It’s just one more example of how out of touch the Romney’s are with reality. Even when experiencing a universal tragedy, they react in a way that the average family would not.

In this case of exploiting your miscarriage for votes, I kinda can’t stand the sight of the Romney’s now. Heartstrings manipulation is a crap way to get votes. In any case, what kind of a husband would ask his wife to share such a personal and painful event in her life for votes? Or worse, what kind of woman would use such a painful experience to get votes? Ann Romney, what were you thinking?

Ann Romney Sorry You just Lost One More Vote

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2012/08/30 8 comments

Confessions

I Swore I Wouldn’t be This Person

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/31

written by Deborah Cruz

I swore that I wouldn’t be this person. The woman who lost a child and then feels like she gets kicked in the gut every single time someone she knows announces their pregnancy. Fuck. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to suck all of the joy out of the room. I want to be happy and excited. I really do. I tell myself that I am and then it hits me like a sledgehammer, right in the heart. A painful reminder of what I can’t have, of what I’m too afraid to ever let myself want again, of what I will never get to experience again because I won’t. I can’t. I am too afraid to go through that pain again. Once almost killed me. It changed me. I don’t know if I can handle another shift like that. I might become unrecognizable, even to myself.

I remember that morning at the hospital, seeing a small child, not even a year old, sitting with her parents in the waiting room; waiting to be called back for her surgery. I remember sitting there, with my silent womb, not a stirring, thinking to myself, I am glad I am not those parents because there is nothing worse than having a sick baby and feeling helpless. I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Maybe it does to someone who has been through it or maybe the pain was just too much and I had to detach myself from what was really happening to me.

I saw that same little girl in the back when they were prepping us for surgery and I was again overwhelmed with gratitude that I was not sitting there as the parent of a child who was sick. I looked at my husband and I said (out loud), “It could be worse, we could be here with one of our girls who was sick.” He looked at me sort of bewildered. I guess he thought I was crazy because our baby was as sick as a baby could get, our baby no longer had a heartbeat. I was grateful that I could not hold my baby, see its eyes looking to me to save it, it’s cry begging me for relief; it was not tangible. My hurt was underlying. My baby was a promise that had been broken before I ever had the chance to fully appreciate it. In the first days, I wanted nothing more than to have had the chance to hold my baby but now, I know that if I had, the pain of the loss might have killed me on the spot.

Now that broken promise haunts me. I can’t stop it from infiltrating my thoughts. I can’t stop being this fucking person who feels empty and a little bitter. I’m pissed. Pissed at the situation. Pissed at myself for still feeling so vulnerable. Pissed at myself for still getting so pissed. I fucking want to punch somebody. I’m envious of other people’s happiness and I don’t want to be that person. I want to be able to genuinely feel happy without the happiness carrying with it a tinge of pain; the reminder of my loss. I’m afraid to be around my friends who are pregnant because I’m afraid I will spontaneously burst into tears and ruin their happiness. Every first of the month, I mark the day that my baby died. It coincides with my period just to remind me that my womb is in fact empty.

I know this sounds morbid and maybe a little crazy. I am so sick of pretending that everything is normal. I’m sick of pretending that I am all right. I’m not. All. Right. I am all wrong and I am afraid that I will not find my way back to my normal and that’s all that I want. Is normal so much to ask for? I am slowly beginning to live again but there is this damn underlying anger that I can’t shake. How does one shake the anger caused by a promise that can never be fulfilled? How do you fix a problem with no solution?

Linking up this morning with Just Write because sometimes you just need to write it out to move through it.

2012/07/31 8 comments

loss, miscarriage, stream of consciousness, pain, pregnancy

Confessions

Stream of Consciousness ~Lingering in Loss

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/22

written by Deborah Cruz

Loss~ Sometimes it crashes over me like a giant wave; swallowing me up and drowning me.

I am all alone with this secret sadness.

Everyone thinks I’ve forgotten & that I’ve gotten over my miscarriage.

My pregnancy that I never got to share with the people I love.

My baby who I never got to welcome into the world; into our family.

Life carries on but I can’t forget. It’s always right here with me.

It’s in my heart and bubbles to the surface and almost chokes me on certain occasions.

When I see a pregnant woman who is about as far along in her pregnancy as I should be; my heart silently breaks.

I am not bitter. I am envious that she does not know the pain of loss.

I would not wish the loss of a pregnancy or a child on my worst enemy.

I am sad for my baby that I will never know. I feel cheated.

I am pissed that this happened to me.

I long for what I should be experiencing too.

No one hears me. When I lie awake at night unable to sleep & one of my daughters comes into get me, I lie there looking at my 2 beautiful babies and I yearn for something I’ll never know, someone I’ll never meet: my baby.

The little life that lived inside me for only 10 weeks, who I loved more than words can ever convey.

Loss is not fair.

Why did this happen to me?

Everyone gets to move on with their life but I can’t. I’m stuck in my loss being swallowed whole and I don’t think I’ll ever break free.

I feel like everyone has forgotten; no one remembers or cares to remember the little life that almost was but my heart breaks and yearns daily to feel my baby in my arms and at my bosom. I never will.

I try to carry on & be strong because that’s my nature. I’m not the victim who sits around and lets life happen to her.

Though my miscarriage immobilized me completely for a month.

Loss has crippled me emotionally.

I pack my pain up in a tiny box & push it way, way down.

I try not to drone on or linger too long. No one likes a Debi Downer but I’m down, down in the pits of hell alone.

Not every day or constantly but the pain of loss lingers just beneath the surface; haunting me from within.

Crying into my pillow in the middle of the night. Screaming, yelling hating the pain, wishing I didn’t know this pain so intimately.

I don’t know how people carry on normally after their loss.

I don’t know how or when life feels normal again. When does my heart stop aching?

When can I stop pretending to be okay and actually be okay?

There will always be a hole in my arms where my baby should be.

There will always be a part of our family missing in my heart.

I will never be the same.

I will never be okay.

My loss is my constant companion.

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2012/07/22 16 comments

baby center, miscarriage, pregnancy loss

Throat Punch Thursday

Throat Punch Thursday ~ Baby Center & Miscarriage Edition

by Deborah Cruz 2012/07/06

written by Deborah Cruz

Baby Center Missed the Miscarriage Memo

Miscarriage Reminder from Baby Center. Due to the holiday and a lot of moving and packing and general exhaustion in the 107 degree weather, I was a bit discombobulated and Throat Punch Thursday is a day late. Yesterday, as I was packing up our home for our final good-bye, Baby Center sent me a “Congratulations, you are at the half way mark in your pregnancy”… Only, I’m not because I miscarried May 1st at 10 weeks and 4 days. I know this because every 1st day of the month, I am stabbed in the chest with a little knife that reminds me that I am missing something followed by my shark week that starts a few days later just so the point is driven home that my womb is EMPTY. So fuck you very much Baby Center, I didn’t need the reminder of what could have been because I’ve never forgotten! I know I lost my pregnancy, I don’t need bells and whistles as a reminder.

I got a bill in the mail today and I can’t let it go. Believe me I believe in paying for services. I pay my bills. I always have but there are some things in life that should be free and the fact that people have to be charged for these things makes me feel indignant and stabbity.

Oh yeah, the outrageous bill that I just received is what I’m being charged for my D&E. This has me truly indignant. In my mind, I KNOW it’s a surgery and it saved me from infections and all sorts of other painful repercussions but it’s not fair. I can’t even believe they charge for this. I understand that there are charges involved. I understand that doctors need to be paid, surgeons, anesthesiologists, nurses, medication needs to be dispensed but fuck me. In my heart, I don’t understand. I want to stomp my feet, scream at the top of my lungs and say “HELL NO! WE WON’T PAY for MISCARRIAGES!! THIS IS BULLSHIT!”

No Charge for Miscarriage Please

Paying for an unwanted D&E (is there such a thing really as a “wanted” one?) after my miscarriage is as awful as charging parents for their child’s pediatric cancer treatment. It’s like charging to give someone a drink when they are dying of thirst in the dessert. It’s like charging to throw someone a life preserver when they are drowning. It is withholding the cure for cancer because someone cannot afford the cure. It is bullshit.

There are just some things in life that should be free and a D& E is one of those things. There’s nothing quite like billing a broken woman for her own misery. Talk about insult to injury! I want to punch the hospital billing department square in the gullet just for having the audacity to bill me for my miscarriage. If anything, I feel like someone owes me something, an explanation would be nice. Maybe insurance should make pregnancy lossone of those things they pay for in its entirety, like getting your teeth cleaned. I’d considered it well being, its something that had to be done to keep my sanity after the loss. Paying for a miscarriage feels like paying for my own hit. I want to scream and yell for it to stop. I don’t want to pay for something I never wanted. I wanted my baby. I never wanted the miscarriage or the D&E. At the very least, maybe there should be a 6-month grace period before a bill is sent to the victim patient.

I guess it’s all still too fresh for me because Baby Center, the outrageous bill that I have to pay for something I NEVER wanted and being told, “I Bet you wish you would have sold all those baby toys at the garage sell now, don’t you?” makes me what to throat punch the lot of them and so I am. Throat Punches to Baby Center, the billing offices and the other asshole who shall remain nameless for being completely insensitive and douche canoes.

Who would you Throat Punch today? I know, I am in a really bad mood with this one. Sorry if I sound like a complete loon but honestly, leave it to all this emotional shit to surface right on shark week. This would be one of those posts where I cringe and hit publish anyway. I know it’s not politically correct to talk about the cost of a miscarriage or to be irate at Baby Center for sending me a reminder to celebrate the biggest loss of my life but it’s how I’m feeling today and I love you all for listening.

I am being featured at Erin Margolin And Your TRUTH Shall Set you Free today telling you all about my writer roots. You may be shocked at what you learn about your Truthful Mommy. I share my truth, no holds barred. Hope you will read and comment and stick around and check out Erin’s site. She is a wonderful writer and you will be glad you did. Have a wonderful weekend. Enjoy the moments with your family because that is what counts and try not to melt in this ridiculous heat. I’ll try not to bitch slap the next person who reminds me of my miscarriage.

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2012/07/06 3 comments

Parenting

That’s My Daughter

by Deborah Cruz 2012/05/27

written by Deborah Cruz

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My New Favorite Photo of My Daughters

That’s my daughter in the water, both of them

That’s my daughter is what I want to scream every single time anyone looks at my daughter, either one of them. Anyone who’s ever had the honor of being the mommy to a daughter knows that our little girls leave us in awe on a daily basis. I can’t even explain the pride and love that I feel for these two little creatures. At their very core, they are pure good. They are everything that I love about the world, about people, even about living. Everything I do is for them.

This past month has been such an emotional roller coaster for so many reasons, least of all because of our miscarriage. I say ours because it wasn’t just my loss. It hurt our family, at it’s core. Thank God,I have so much to be thankful for. I am so freaking blessed that sometimes, I think it’s not fair that I should have so many blessings in my life, especially my daughters and husband. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows over here, hardly. But even when it’s hard, it’s still really, really good because I have the girls and the Big Guy to love me. They love me regardless of the time, day, weather, whether I am fat or skinny. It’s unconditional and that is truly something to be thankful for.

So, I am not going to go on mushy on you and talk about what I’ve lost. I’ve done enough of that. You have all been such a great sounding board. I have shouted profanities at life and collapsed in a pool of snot and tears and I have had so many people to lift me up. I finally feel like I can stand alone and shout my profanities. I know y’all have got my back and I don’t feel sorry for myself anymore. I feel sad at what I will never know and I feel the void but I know that I am strong enough to survive. I know that I am a stronger and better person for having survived it, like so many other shitty things that I have survived.

This is about so much more, this is about my daughters and all the reasons that I had to celebrate this month. No, I am not crazy or delusional and believe me, I didn’t think I could celebrate anything but how could I not. My husband celebrated his 37th birthday. The Big Guy is my soft place to land in a life of never ending rocks and hard places. I celebrate his birth because, he is responsible for my rebirth. He is the part of me that holds me up. He is my foundation.

That’s My Daughter, Who’d Have Ever Thought Her?

I had to celebrate Mother’s day because look at the two daughters I have been blessed with. My girl’s bring me infinite love to give and to receive on a daily basis. They have made me better than I ever could have hoped to be, more than I could have imagined was even possible. With them, my heart grows to the point that it feels like it may swell and burst out of my chest.

The Big Guy and I celebrated 13 years of marriage. This man came into a moment in my life when I was not expecting love. Up until him, what I thought was love was a faint shadow of what love truly is. Love is all consuming and easy. It’s a submission of your heart, body and soul with a complete reciprocation.It’s a soft place to land. It’s good times and bad. It’s the big things and the little things. It’s sharing a near death experience in order to create a perfect, living breathing , walking around and breaking your heart culmination of your love. It’s holding hair, holding hands and holding your heart together with chewing gum when it’s breaking into a million different pieces. It’s silence that fills a room and noise that fills your heart. It’s all day, every day and it is unconditional without reservation, hesitation or question.

We celebrated Gabi’s birthday. My tenderhearted baby turned 5 this past week and if I were on my dying bed, I would will myself up and celebrate that child’s life. She is strong, witty, funny and amazing in ways that I’d never thought about before her. She is my baby and that is worth celebrating. She is here to be held and loved. I will do it every second and in every way for as long as I take breath into my body.

Along with all that, there were end of year programs, preschool graduation, ballet recitals, firsts performances, last days, life and death and through it all, I am so glad that you are here to share it all with. Which reminds me, The TRUTH about Motherhood just turned 3 and Throat Punch Thursday (Which I’ve been too emotionally drained the past month to dole out but will resume next month) is officially 2 years old. I have truly enjoyed getting to know all of you and I look forward to many more years of growing through motherhood and life with you.

What would I do without to you? What would I do without the Big Guy or my daughters? I don’t know and I hope I never do know life without your community, the Big Guy or my daughters.

That’s my Daughter, Every time she fell I caught Her, Every time

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2012/05/27 7 comments

Confessions

A Thousand Years

by Deborah Cruz 2012/05/14

written by Deborah Cruz

It seems like it’s been A Thousand Years since I first found out that I was going to be a mother for the third time. It’s been 3 months today since that test showed two lines. I was surprised and exhilarated and scared all in that moment. But mostly I was unexpectedly blessed beyond my wildest dreams. I’ve always wanted three children but it just didn’t seem to be in the cards and then it was and now it’s not. Mother’s Day was yesterday. This was my 7th Mother’s day. Every year, I thank God for blessing me with my beautiful children.Now, I know to thank God for my children every second of every day. I’ve always known that some women were not so lucky to be sitting, holding their children in their lap on Mother’s day but I never honestly knew their pain. The lingering emptiness and void that remains long after a baby is gone.

I have been waiting for you for a thousand years

I’ve always felt like I don’t deserve my children. I have days when I am grouchy and sometimes I am less patient than my girls deserve. I lose my temper and say “No” to a lot of requests to what seems to me to be frivolous requests. I rush them and hush them. But what if they weren’t there to ask? Then what? I’d give my life to be sure that they are here so why not give in to frivolous requests? Because maybe those requests are not so frivolous after all. I am now painfully aware how very important every moment of every day is with my children. I had to learn this lesson the hard way.

Yesterday, I had lots of love sent my way. I thought I would be okay. It’s been two weeks since I saw that life changing ultrasound. I’ll NEVER be over it. I will never forget the baby that I was looking forward to introducing to my family this Thanksgiving. I feel like I loved that baby for a thousand years and I know I will love him for a thousand more. As far as I am concerned, I am the mommy of three babies. I just never got the privilege of holding my third baby in my arms. I feel robbed and cheated and sad. But a little part of me, feels grateful that I ever got the chance to feel that incredible love that a mommy can only feel for the baby growing inside her. It’s been a hard two weeks, the hardest of my entire life. I am learning to live in my new normal.

I have loved You for a Thousand Years

I feel like a ticking time bomb of emotions. The song that was playing that morning as we drove to the hospital, the very same song that I sang to my belly in the car the week before, A Thousand Years by Christina Perri, every time I hear it I bitter-sweetly smile at what might have been and cry at what I had to lose to truly appreciate what I had. I have new perspective. Mother’s Day to me is a day to give thanks for all the beautiful mother’s in my life.A day to appreciate the power of a mother’s love.

My mother who loves me so much that she stepped back to allow me to feel my pain at my request, knowing that, as a mother, all she wanted to do was run to me and comfort me. My sister, who lost her own angel, 10 years ago. I never understood the solitude in her pain and I now wish that I could just wrap her in love and make everything alright for her. She is so brave and beautiful. I admire her for her heart. My baby sister, who just celebrated her first Mother’s day but loves me so much that she held me as I cried and felt my pain so that the force of it did not kill me. To all my friends who have never felt this loss but love me so much that they surrounded me with love, prayer and understanding and to all of the beautiful friends and strangers who I am joined to forever in our loss., my heart goes out to all of you because I know how hard it is to lose something that means so very much. Please hold those babies you can in your arms every day and be thankful they are there and hold the ones that are not, in your heart where they will live and be a part of you forever.

I’ll Love you for a thousand More

Today is a new beginning. Today, I am rising from beneath the rubble of my heart. I am summoning all of my strength and I will get up out of bed, love my children with all that I am, live my life and be thankful for all the wonderful people and opportunities that I have been given. I am counting my blessings, wiping my tears away and coming back to life. I am no longer who I once was and things that seemed so important last month have no importance at all today. My priority is my family; my husband who has been my rock and my beautiful daughters who light up my life and show me how very precious life is and how very blessed I am to have them.

Positive, how long I’ve waited for this
An unnatural calm has over taken me
I am happy but afraid to be excited
Afraid my joy will be sort lived and snatched away
My whole life this was the moment I was meant for
But maybe it’s not to be, maybe it’s the cruelest joke
To give such a precious git & take it away just as quickly
I feel a sick feeling in my stomach which accompanies the thought of losing you
I pray to God to spare me this misery
To let us be together until the sunset of my life!

The above quote was written July of 2004 when I was spotting with my first pregnancy.

2012/05/14 9 comments

Confessions

The Kindness of Strangers

by Deborah Cruz 2012/05/07

written by Deborah Cruz

The past week has been the hardest of my life, thus far. I’ve been walking around in a surreal state of existence since last Monday, only half-feeling my grief.

I can’t seem to get the ultrasound image of my perfect baby out of my head. He looked so peaceful. In my heart, that was my baby boy.

The girls have been distracted. I’ve gone out of my way to keep them occupied. Partly because I don’t want to see them sad, partly because I can’t survive another round of my 4-year-old ugly crying telling me that maybe if she loved the baby more, the baby would still be alive. My heart can’t handle being broken into too many more pieces or it may never heal.

I’m not crying constantly anymore. I’ve spent most of the last week in a Vicodin induced fog and I’m all right with that. I need the physical and emotional pain dulled. Each ache and pain is a constant reminder of what I’ve lost.

People are afraid to talk to me and when they do, I see the pity and sadness in their eyes. I’m able to talk about it now, a little bit. I still can’t say the word miscarriage aloud without crying. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around all of this. It’s hard. I’m trying to see the purpose but I can’t make myself understand.

One thing has gotten me through without jumping out of my skin or curling up into the fetal position and dying, and that is you. All of you. Your love, support, kind words and endless prayers have given me the strength to survive this tragedy. People I have known my entire life, my parents, my family, my friends and my beautiful husband and children have been here to love me, to hold me and to give me the space I needed to muddle through.

But you have given me a steady stream of reassurance and by sharing your stories of your own losses; you have made me feel not alone when I have felt the loneliest of my life. When I felt my whole world was spinning out of control and I was losing sight of any hope of normalcy, you have been my touchstone. A terrible thing has happened to me but through it, it’s been made clear to me how blessed I am in my life by the people I know. You are all so much more than just readers, followers and people I know on the computer, you are friends because only a friend could show such genuine love and continued compassion. Your words have saved my life and my sanity. Thank you does not seem to express the gratitude and love I feel for what you all have done for me in this past week but it’s the only words I have, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

2012/05/07 25 comments

Confessions

The End of the World as We Know It

by Deborah Cruz 2012/05/03

written by Deborah Cruz

Telling my daughters was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My husband decided to tell them the truth out of concern for me. My 4-year-old has been begging to be a big sister and he was afraid that in my fragile state, her relentless requests would be to torturous for me to endure. I think we should not of told her. My 4 year old took it especially hard. She is devastated. All I can do is cry.

The morning of my D& C, I awoke at 3:30 A.M. My 4 year old woke soon after and wanted to say good-bye to the baby. She put her arms around me and whispered quietly to my belly, “good bye, baby. I love you!” Then she begged me to get a photo of her baby for her. My heart broke into a million tiny pieces. Then she looked up at me and said, “ Maybe if I knew the baby was in your tummy I could have loved the baby more and he wouldn’t have died.” I whimpered, holding back the flood of hurt and pain that wants to come crashing out and consume the entire world. I have failed her and cannot give her what she’s wanted so badly.

5:30 am May first, 2012. It was a warm Tuesday morning. I walked into the hospital feeling lost and discombobulated, in a fog. We slowly made our way to the registration desk. It all seemed otherworldly, like it was a bad dream and wasn’t really happening but I couldn’t make myself wake up.

After what seemed like an eternity they called us back to prep for surgery. All I could think of we’re my children; my oldest trying to understand and comfort her sister, my youngest mimicking my inner breakdown, completely distraught that the baby was dead, and my baby who I loved so desperately but would never have the chance to hold, to look into his/her eyes, to kiss and nuzzle their tiny head.

Everyone was extremely kind to me that morning and I will always be thankful for their kindness. The kindness of strangers has truly helped me to survive the last few days. I’ve realized that sometimes its easier to speak to those who don’t really know you because they can offer an empathetic kindness and understanding unlike those who love you and have known you your entire life, because they are too vested and behind their love and support, you can see the pain and heartbreak they share with you and sometimes the burden of causing that pain is too much to bear.

The doctor arrived and I told her that I needed one last ultrasound to be certain there was no heartbeat. I. Had.to.be.certain! There was no heartbeat only a beautiful, perfect baby with a profile that reminded me of my oldest. I was thankful for one last look and asked for the ultrasound photos so that I could grant my daughter at least this one simple request. I did not get overly emotional. I did not cry. I had my photo. In had my proof. Proof that my baby ever existed.

The procedure was explained to me in ad nauseum and I was reassuringly told that it would be over in ten minutes. I found that to be the most unsettling thing of all that my entire life could be altered, my baby’s lifetime of promise and all of our hopes and dreams completely gone in a matter of ten minutes.

Tuesday morning my life was changed forever. I am not the same woman I was yesterday or the day before. She is gone. I am part of a new club, the saddest club ever. The one filled with all the mothers of the world who never got to meet their babies. That morning, one of the worst of my life, I met 4 of the kindest nurses I’ve ever met, 3 out of the 4 had experienced miscarriages. Each time they offered their sympathies and shared their own loss, I found myself feeling overwhelmed by my sadness for their loss.

I feel like a raw open wound and the wound is my heart and I’m not sure it will ever truly heal. I feel like I am on an emotional rollercoaster in hell and I cannot get off and I so desperately want to. I just want my mind to quiet and my heart to stop hurting so badly. I just want to survive. A quote was sent to me by one of my readers and it made me cry but I think it is beautiful, so I am sharing it here.

“An angel in the Book of Life wrote down our baby’s birth and whispered as she closed the Book: “Too Beautiful for Earth!” ~Anon

It ‘s beautiful to think of it that way but it doesn’t stop the pain. I hope someday, I will meet my baby again and get the chance to hold him/her in my arms, kiss her upon her cheek and be his Mommy.

*This and the previous post were written in my notes on my phone, as I was experiencing the hell of this week. It was written in a very vulnerable state and it may not make sense, or there may be misspellings or grammar issues, or jump all over the place because it’s hard to write logically when your world is falling apart and you can barely see to write through the tears and swollen eyes.

2012/05/03 29 comments

Confessions Miscarriage

All I Can Do is Cry

by Deborah Cruz 2012/05/01

written by Deborah Cruz

Estimated reading time: 3 minutes

Cry is the only response my body could muster when I heard the word miscarriage.

I want to scream but I can’t. I can barely think. All I can do is cry.

My heart has been irreparably broken.

This unexpected blessing that shocked me when I first saw the two lines, this baby that I didn’t deserve is now gone.

My miracle labeled a miscarriage.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can do is cry.

I went in this morning because I was spotting; no cramps, no heavy bleeding; nothing. I expected everything to be ok. It wasn’t. It isn’t. I don’t know if it ever will be again.

I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. All I can do is cry.

We had only told a very few people, not even our little girls who have been begging for a baby brother or sister.

I’m always afraid. Always afraid that I’ll say something too soon and something bad will happen.

Terrified that I’ll have to explain a miscarriage, afraid my happiness will prove too bold.

My sister lost a baby at 9 weeks. I am 10 weeks and 4 days, I thought I was safe. I wasn’t.

The ultrasound showed 9 weeks and 2 days. That’s when our baby died.

The moment I saw the tech’s face, I knew.

There was no tiny heartbeat.

Only a perfect, still baby.

What does it feel like to have a miscarriage?

It feels like all the wind has been knocked out of me. I feel numb.

I want to crawl up inside myself and be still and never move again.

I want to die. I want my heart to stop beating.

I can’t bear the thought of people looking at me with pity. The thought of people trying to talk or understand my pain away weighs on me like an anchor around my neck.

Just let me be. Let me feel this insurmountable loss.

Let me cry my primal animalistic screams and pretend you don’t hear.

Don’t touch me.

Don’t speak to me.

Just let me be alone with my darkness, my abyss; my hell.

My baby was a promise for something better. The promise has been broken and I feel empty. I feel betrayed and let down by life.

I can’t talk. I can’t breathe. All I can do is cry.

While you are reading this, I will be at the hospital having a D & E because the thought of walking around with my perfect baby without a heartbeat inside me while waiting for it to pass on its own is too much to bear right now.

I appreciate your love, prayers and support and I was hoping to be sharing with you our pregnancy this month, instead, I’m sharing my loss. It’s the only way I know how to move through my pain…to write it down.

I believe that there is a reason for everything and that God has a divine plan for us all, but right now, today my heart is breaking.

All I can do is cry.

This miscarriage makes me feel like my body has completely failed me and I don’t know how to survive this gaping wound in my soul.

2012/05/01 136 comments

Blogging

It’s a Beautiful World I See

by Deborah Cruz 2010/10/19

written by Deborah Cruz

I planned to write a post tonight about my Mommy A-Ha moment and then I read a couple posts of fellow bloggers who I really admire. Tonight, their posts have inspired me to write something different then what I had planned.I know that lately I have been writing syrupy or serious pieces, not my usual “laugh out loud, that lady cracks me up” kind of pieces but that’s just where my head has been lately.Things have been weighing on my mind. I do have a serious side, you know. Sometimes:) Tonight, is not night that the snark makes its reappearance but soon.I promise.

The posts that I read were Empty by Jenni Chiu @ Mommy Nani BooBoo and Hey Buddy by Kelle Hampton @ Enjoying the Small Things. Jenni is normally a rip roaring hoot. I adore her because she is absolutely hilarious, snarky in a way that you either fall madly in love with her style or you are completely offended. I fell hard for her snark. She is honest and real, just like life.Tonight, I first read her post about Green Eggs and Ham and her little boy eating his boogers and I laughed out loud. She is challenging herself to write a 50 word story. Commentors are encouraged to leave a word to be used and she will use the first 50 words that she receives,just like the challenge issued to Dr. Seuss. Of course, given our repartee I issued the word “pulchritudinous”.Then, I went back a post and read, Empty and my heart cracked open into a million little pieces.

A few days ago she had a miscarriage at two months along. It’s her story to tell and I suggest that you read it. I can’t do it justice. But it made my heart hurt and made me want to hold me girls really close tonight. I am so blessed that when I crawl into bed after writing this post, I am going to snuggle so closely to my little girls that they are going to wake up and say ,”Mommy, get off of me!Scoot back!You are smothering me!” And I won’t really mind or care because I am just so grateful that I have them here to annoy. These are the moments that change us.The moments that make us realize that we are mortal that we are all here but by the grace of God.

Then I headed over to Enjoying the Small Things, as I do every single time my blog roll shows that she has posted something new.Have you read Kelle Hampton? She is really an amazing writer, photographer, mother, and lover of life. She is a go big or go home sort of person with her love. I read her for inspiration.She inspires me to Enjoy the Small things and to be a better person. Tonight’s post was about the Downs Syndrome Buddy Walk held in Naples, Florida this past weekend.Kelle and her husband have two beautiful daughters, the youngest, Nella, has Downs Syndrome. I am perpetually inspired by how Kelle views the world and her perspective on life.Tonight’s post touched me beyond words. The gorgeous photos of all family and friends gathered round in support of their little almond eyed beauty in the walk. As I skimmed the photos of Nella herself, in her little Rock star wagon, I found myself crying and smiling simultaneously. My heart breaks knowing how deep a Mother’s love is and how we want every possibility for our children.To see our children grow up, get married and have children of their own, to share their life experiences with us..to watch them exhaust every avenue of potential..that is what we live for. That’s the good stuff. To watch them struggle in any way, tears at our soul.To know that one day limitations will arise for such a small piece of God’s perfection makes me sad. But I am so happy that little Nella has such an amazing Mother, Father,Grandfather, sister, family, and friends who will be there throughout the good times and bad times, the hard times and the soft times, the sunny days and the cloudy days of life. Her piece made me want to do more, to push the possibilities, to embrace the chaos and to love my children with reckless abandon with a love so fierce that it could rule the world.

Thank both of you ladies for sharing such intimate moments in your lives. You both have inspired me to be a better woman, mother, and wife.You have made me want to be a better me and to be thankful for this beautiful world that I see. These moments are truly changing me.

2010/10/19 7 comments

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