Upon waking I knew immediately that there was no such thing as an IVF pump, and possibly it represented the copious amounts of hormones Chris has been injecting me with. There is something wrong with my heart though. It's broken. I have lost my baby. We have lost my baby. Our baby. When something is a part of YOUR body it feels like it's yours, your arm, your leg, your heart. I have to remind myself that I'm not alone. It was ours. We made it together. Chris, and I....and the doctor that is.
After a successful Frozen Embryo Transfer, we were 9 weeks pregnant. Having gone through 7 years of infertility, leaving us with one beautiful and healthy child, and four frozen potential babies, I thought we had our success formula all figured out. We knew our struggle was getting that positive test, but carrying a child I was good at! No worries after we got to that point. Well. I was wrong. Miscarriage can happen to me too. Just because we struggled on the first end, didn't mean we had hit our ratio of "bad things" in the baby making department.
We are now 6 days post D&E surgery....yes that's an E. I didn't even know there was such a thing. E means evacuation. My baby was evacuated. It sounds awful. It is awful. We are 10 days past the world stopping its spin, when we found no heartbeat. I'm going through the motions of each day. "Faking it till I make it."
Each day I perseverate on something different, and those thoughts stick with me the entire day. I'm in a jail cell. The bars holding me in are guilt, and anger, and 'what ifs?' I'm learning a lot about myself through this grieving process, and yes I think I will come out of this a better person. However, right now, I'm a horrible person. The guilt is consuming.
People say to me, "It will be okay." I know they are right. I know it will turn out. I know God has his own plan and this is part of it. Somehow I have to close the gap between where I am at right now, and to that place of 'okay'ness. I'm such a planner that I want to organize out on the calendar my grief and my steps moving forward. Being faced with the reality that it doesn't work that way is forcing me to address the loss in a different way.
I plan on
I wish you much patience and grace with yourself. There is no right way to do this. I think you are amazing. This was a great post my beautiful friend. Hugs and love to you! Xoxo
ReplyDeleteThanks Tiffany. No right way is true, but hard!
DeleteTrying this again. I put a lot of time and thought into a comment yesterday that disappeared when I hit "publish"
ReplyDeleteMy love,
ReplyDeleteFrom the first time I felt the tiny stirrings within me that were you... I loved you. Nobody can understand the exact pain you are going through, but I can tell you that I know the exact love you feel for your children. Being a mother starts right away... it isn't something that you can schedule or make time for, and neither, my dear one, is grief. The stricken look on your face jabs me in the heart, and the ache and emptiness you feel makes me cry in sympathy. Time is the great healer, and your sadness will diminish when you let time work its magic. If I could carry this burden for you, I would. I love you more today than that day I first saw your little face with its twinkly eyes full of mischief from day one. I see you reflected in Noah, and it causes my heart to burst with a love that surpasses understanding. You feel those same feelings for Noah. Take all that love you have and feel it fully. Time is the great healer, but love is the balm that can ease your pain and make that time slide past. I love you, my precious little girl.
I love you too. Your words show much wisdom. I know you are right. Time does heal with loves help. Thank you for pouring the love on thick.
DeleteAmanda - this will be cathartic and good for you. God did give you a miracle in Noah - Be kind to yourself & patient - God will do the rest. Getting over grief has no timeframe and take it in your time and recall God has given you an Angel both here & in Heaven. Trust God! (Tony - aka TiTi)
ReplyDeleteHere's a test comment. See:
ReplyDeletehttps://productforums.google.com/d/topic/blogger/MZslcP2FfHw/discussion
I saw your Blogger Help post and I came here to leave a comment to see if it would post. Well, I had to read it of course.
ReplyDeleteI lost my first baby to miscarriage at 10 weeks. It was the most devastating experiences of my life. I was 20. I had dreams for a very long time afterward and became so depressed they were going to put me on medication. The strength determination set in and I got past that without the medication. But the dreams of a blonde little girl haunted me for many years.
I had a beautiful blonde baby boy a year later. There is a long story of his life but that little girl still lives in my mind and heart. Today, I cling to the thought that she and my husband, who died in 2009 have finally got to meet and they carry on long conversations, they laugh, and he gets to chase her across green flower-filled fields. He smiles at her the way he did our two yr old granddaughter. He swings her in the same way.
Maybe it is just a dream. Sometimes it gets me through a very bad day.
Grief has to be felt, experienced, and lived with. You don't get over it. You don't get "through it. You learn to live with it as a companion but over time it becomes like an old relative who sits on the porch rocking all day. You know it is there, but it doesn't intrude so much. Sometimes it needs attention; sometimes it is silent.
Just hang on.
I'm so sorry. There are too many of us who've experienced this loss. You have had more than your share of "baby jail". If I could break you out myself, I would! Love you!
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