The waiting was over. The worst was confirmed. The question remained: Where do we go from here?
To say that I did not immediately deal with my emotions is an understatement. Avoidance was my way of dealing. I threw myself into packing, shopping, cleaning, working, anything. But mostly packing. The move was on whether we liked it or not. We had to get out of this apartment by the end of February. We could not afford to take time off for grieving. Time was not on our side.
And neither was Mother Nature. She clearly didn't care that I was in the middle of the move when I physically lost my baby. Before I lose you as a reader, I am well aware that there are some details that need not be shared. That is one of them. I will say this...it is horrific, traumatizing, scary and nothing can prepare a woman for it.
After the packing, moving, decorating and settling in came to a screeching halt, I still had yet to deal with the pain of everything that happened. I began to have all these ideas of how I would turn this negative experience into a positive one. I was going to use this recovery period to make all these positive changes. And although I think my heart was in the right place, perhaps I would have followed through with those plans if I had made them in the right order. Mourn --> make peace --> make changes. All I had done was make empty promises to myself under the pretense of making positive changes in my life. I needed to pretend there was some light at the end of this tunnel.
It wasn't until about a month and a half later, still dealing with the physical recovery, I finally felt something for the first time since I originally learned there was a problem with my pregnancy. I finally felt the weight of my loss. I remember the moment like it was yesterday. I was leaving Target, driving through the parking lot, and a sad song came on the radio. I don't remember the song and I'm sure it had nothing to do with any issue I was facing but it didn't matter. I was no longer able to push away, ignore, or deny that this loss affected me way more than I had been letting on. I wasn't "over it." And I wasn't going to ever be "over it."
It's been hard not being open about this experience since it happened. I'm the type of person who likes to talk (or write) things out. Knowing D wanted to keep this as quiet as possible, I went along with it. The man doesn't ask for much. Ever. But the not talking about it (except to my sisters who have been absolute dolls) has done more damage.
Can I talk to D about it? Yes. And I do. But I try my hardest not to talk about it all the time. I don't want to be "that girl." I don't want to be the phone call people dread picking up. But I have to let it out. I'm still going through it and I need an outlet.
Don't get me wrong, D has been so wonderful throughout this process. He's actually been more than wonderful. There aren't enough words to describe how selfless, caring, and concerned my husband is. My heart breaks knowing I can't bear this pain all on my own. I hate that this was our experience to share. I hate that he was hurt by this too. Although it was his wish at first to keep this a secret, he was gracious enough to give me his blessing when I told him I really needed to write about it to cope. I'm so very thankful for that.
In addition to finally writing this all out, I've been attending a support group. Although it's only once a month, it's nice to be able to talk about my loss with people who understand. And I don't have to feel guilty about bringing it up or feel like people are struggling to keep from rolling their eyes when I talk about it. It's a good place for me to be. How long will I attend? I can't be sure. I just know that for right now it's a piece to the puzzle on my road to healing.
Miscarriage is a desolating experience. I feel like I've been robbed of so much without ever having been given an answer to the million dollar question: Why? I don't think anyone can ever answer that. Or maybe one day I will have my own answer. I just know that for right now, I've stopped looking for it.