Reflections on the past

After my first miscarriage, things were rough. There was so much sadness, so much unknown. Unknown because I didn’t get to have a successful pregnancy and meet my baby, but also unknown of how things would be in the future. How would I react when milestones came around? How would I be when one of my good friends had her baby? How long would I feel this way? How long would it take for us to fall pregnant again? These are all logical and reasonable questions, and the unknown-ness caused a lot of anxiety. Not to the point where I would get scared or panic, but the frustration of not knowing just left me wound up.

I only had one instance when I really felt mad, that there was an injustice that I 100% didn’t understand and I wanted answers. Now. I wasn’t angry with God at all. I still understood completely that first trimester miscarriage is almost always due to a developmental issue with the baby. I knew that and understood it with all my heart and all my mind. But still, I wanted answers. I wanted to get angry and yell and cry because everyone else had what I wanted. I had waited for so long and been so patient and happy while people had fallen pregnant and had babies over the years. Now that it finally happened for us, it was taken away. In all honesty, looking back, I probably just wanted to chuck the hugest tantrum and have my way.

The excitement we felt as we saw our baby on the ultrasound and see it’s heart beating was, actually, I don’t know how to describe it. Because for 2 weeks we had known we were pregnant (I had my suspicions for maybe 4 weeks), in that time it’s so surreal. There’s a baby in there – but you can’t tell from the outside. Apart from symptoms, you just can’t tell. But then when they put that wand on your belly and you see a little black circle with this white… “thing” in it with a little flutter happening somewhere in the middle, that’s pretty cool. It’s definitely a “wow” moment. But when you see the same thing without that flutter. It’s the quietest, most still, silent picture. You will the flutter to happen inside of your mind, but it doesn’t happen. You can’t control this. It is gone, and it is not coming back. After seeing that, I couldn’t even control it. I just started crying. The crying continued. Life feels a little emptier than before. You feel hollow. You retreat from life clutching a little white flag in your heart, you curl up, and you cry.

I gave myself all the time I could, but I had to go back to work. A few people knew, and they were great. They patiently listened to me, and it was almost like they were doing me a service instead of me doing them a service. Their hearts were (and still are) of gold. But then came the douchebags. I had to cancel my 12 week ultrasound while at work (I forgot to do it while I was at home), which unfortunately prompted a crying spell. I locked myself in the staff room. The cleaner came in, and she immediately asked what was wrong. I just blurted it out between sobs and gasps for air. “I had a miscarriage last week”. She was saddened by it and I think she apologised and asked if I was ok. But the one thing I definitely remember her asking was “Was it your exercise that did it?” which prompted me to wear a “What-the-honest-to-goodness-f**k?!?” face mixed in with my usual ugly crying face. I’m sure it wasn’t a pretty sight. It made my stomach ache and I think I managed to choke out a “No” in response. I can’t believe she just said that. You just don’t say that. You don’t ask someone if they are to blame, even in circumstances where they probably are to blame, or at least some of their choices are. Anyway. I composed myself and left the staff room. One of my friends was outside and she immediately asked if I was ok, she saw me make the dash into the room and shut the door. Bless her heart, it started me up again. So I called her into the staff room and shut the door again. I don’t know what made me think telling her would be a good idea after my last experience but I did. She apologised and asked if she could hug me. I accepted. She did good.

The next year was rough. The spontaneous outbursts of crying subsided (quickly, thankfully), and the waves of grief got further apart. There was still sadness, but I got a little happier over time.

But more on that later 🙂


Author: thegriefdiariesblog

A borderline hyperactive Personal Trainer, navigating the process of starting a family.

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