The elephant in the room. In my head.

February 14, 2013 § 9 Comments

You guys don’t know me all that well yet, but one thing you will learn as we go on is that I’m a pretty content person. I’m generally happy. I’m anxious, yes. But one can be a joyful worrier, I believe. The two are not mutually exclusive.

Sure, I have down days. I wallow on occasion. (You’ve seen it here.) Sometimes I get envious of other people, especially other women, when they are cooler or smarter or wittier or more talented that I am. I lament (not just lentils but also) things like the fact that I carry weight in my hips and thighs and not in my boobs.

But I think these things are fairly normative. And when it comes down to it, I consider myself happy. Content for sure. Even lucky in a lot of ways (not involving my womb).

But lately I’ve been feeling something scratching at that wall of contentment, trying to break through. And last week, I figured out what that little sharp-clawed thing is.

If you’ve poked around on this blog–the little corner of my inner world I’ve chosen to share with others–you know that I’ve experienced pregnancy loss. Yes, it was early. Yes, the miscarriage completed itself without complication. I was “lucky.” And, according to my RE and many of the close friends we chose to tell, at least I know I can get pregnant.

But I had symptoms. I felt pregnant. I was pregnant. And then it was gone. And that is heartbreaking.

Y’all. If I hadn’t lost that baby, I would be 20 weeks and 5 days today. I’d be more than halfway through. I would be showing. My baby would be about 10 inches long. About the length of a carrot or a banana. I might know the sex if we had chosen to do that. We might have a name picked out. We might have baby-related things beginning to gather in the basement for impending use.

Instead, I have none of those things. I’m no closer now than I was when I started this process.

Sure, I’ve gained some things from this journey:

1) a closer, more emotionally intimate relationship with the Artsy Engineer,

2) astonishing knowledge about the female body and procreation, and

3) a new community of kindred women.

But this is not what I want this week. This week, probably because it would be the halfway point, I’ve been plagued by the woulda coulda shouldas. They’re lurking, scratching at my typically high spirits. Behind the scenes but making waves.

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§ 9 Responses to The elephant in the room. In my head.

  • Gypsy Mama says:

    I am so sorry for your loss. It is only natural to feel the way you do. There is a difference between moving on and forgetting. I’m sure you’ve been trying to move on after your loss, but you will never forget. Some days you will remember more than others.

  • Sadie says:

    I’m sorry you’re not accumulating baby stuff to be used in the very near future and announcing the gender of your little lentil. Even if otherwise contented, it’s a painful and horrible thing to lose a pregnancy, no matter how early, and I wish you didn’t have to go through it. Thinking of you.

  • YeahScience! says:

    Aw, you are totally entitled to feel this way, and I think all women who experience loss — at any stage — do. Last year, I was only blissfully pregnant for about two days before finding out it was ectopic, but I’m still so bummed about that because my due date was Christmas, and both my grandmother and aunt were born on Christmas and I was so excited at the prospect of continuing that tradition. I feel like this holiday will always be a bit sad for me now, even if I end up having multiple healthy pregnancies/births… and I’m sure you’ll feel the same. In any case, wallow it up! It’s part of the healing process…

  • I can relate to “joyful worry.” I also don’t think lamenting a loss is abnormal… no matter what that loss is. I thought IVF would be the end of all my worries but alas, now that the prospect of a BFP is even on the table I’m convinced it will turn into a mis. I think the recurring theme here is that nothing is in our control and the place we land is often so far from the place we intended to go. I’m hoping for the best for you…

  • bustedoven says:

    It’s impossible to be in good spirits all the time, especially on this journey. My heart hurts for your loss. But I just know your sticky bean is on the horizon for you!

  • sarah says:

    Boy do I know these feelings. I had an early miscarriage just a few weeks ago and although it was early, and although my doctor also shared the words “at least you know you can get pregnant” (small solace), and although I also took away some of the same lessons – a closer relationship with my husband, new knowledge about the way my body works (that I probably should have already known), and the benefit of this here interwebs community, it was still one of the most difficult times in my life. And those feelings continue to pop up every now and then, a pit of sadness that almost catches me by surprise. Here’s hoping that the days when the worry and sadness poke through the wall of contentment are less and less. Keep on keepin’ on!

  • storkchaser says:

    I completely understand how you feel. And while the positives that have come from this experience are amazing, they don’t cancel out the feelings of loss. Hugs.

  • Lori says:

    Just here from ICWL. Thinking good thoughts for you…hold each other close and you’ll get through it, from someone who has been there and came out the other side…

  • Melanie says:

    I blog a lot about the things you’ve posted about. Check it out if you get a chance. angelheartsforever.blogspot.com
    Take care, Thinking of you!

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