The Truth Is...

I am struggling today. It all started with not wanting to get out of bed, which isn't all together unusual, but I REALLY didn't want to get out of bed. And there wasn't a reason for it either. I mean, no one really wants to get up and go to work, but I don't hate my job, and I don't have anything pressing due this week, so work wasn't the reason. I even contemplated calling in, but I thought that would be a bad idea. So, I got up anyway.

I kept feeling this immense sadness. An emptiness, really. I knew what it was, but I was hoping it would go away.

It's this depression that seems to hit me out of nowhere. I have no way of knowing when it's coming or why, but it always goes back to feeling an emptiness because of the babies I lost last year. It's an ache in your heart that I think only a mother can understand, and perhaps can only truly be understood by women who have had a miscarriage or stillborn.

It's the worst feeling in the world. You feel broken, and nothing, I mean nothing, can fix it.
You just have to feel it. Which totally sucks, I might add! That's exactly what I did though. I hadn't been at work for longer than 20 minutes before I had to run to the bathroom to cry it out. At times, it felt like I had no idea what I was crying about, but the tears kept flowing.

I cried because my arms are empty when they should be holding a child.
I cried because all my hopes and dreams were shattered.
I cried for everyone who has ever felt this way.
But most of all, I cried because I feel so alone.

Miscarriage has a way of doing that. So many people keep it secret and it's almost taboo to talk about because people who haven't been through it have no idea how to react. It's like you're being sent to a corner. Being punished for something you didn't do. Yet you're still the only one left with the burden of loss.

And even though my husband is there for me, he still can't fully understand my grief to its full extent.

It sometimes feels like since it has been almost 10 months since my D&C and 6 months since my second miscarriage, that I should be over this by now. That I shouldn't be balling my eyes out at the drop of a hat. But grief doesn't have a timeline. I realize this, but I still question if it will ever get easier. Or will it just feel different? More distant? Will it change once I become pregnant again?

I hate that I even have to think about these things. I hate that I can never become pregnant and think the end result will be anything but a healthy child that I can hold. I hate that I can't trust my body, myself or my emotions anymore. I just want that piece of heart back that made me feel whole again, but I'm afraid that will never happen.

It's times like these that I always go back to this page for strength and comfort: http://www.ivf.com/misc.html



"THE TRUTH IS..."

The truth ISN'T that you will feel "all better" in a couple of days, or weeks, or even months.

The truth IS that the days will be filled with an unending ache and the nights will feel one million sad years long for a while. Healing is attained only after the slow necessary progression through the stages of grief and mourning.

The truth isn't that a new pregnancy will help you forget.

The truth is that, while thoughts of a new pregnancy soon may provide hope, a lost infant deserves to be mourned just as you would have with anyone you loved. Grieving takes a lot of energy and can be both emotionally and physically draining. This could have an impact upon your health during another pregnancy. While the decision to try again is a very individualized one, being pregnant while still actively grieving is very difficult.

The truth isn't that pills or alcohol will dull the pain.

The truth is that they will merely postpone the reality you must eventually face in order to begin healing. However, if Your doctor feels that medication is necessary to help maintain your health, use it intelligently and according to his/her instructions.

The truth isn't that once this is over your life will be the same.

The truth is that your upside-down world will slowly settle down, hopefully leaving you a more sensitive, compassionate person, better prepared to handle the hard times that everyone must deal with sooner or later. When you consider that you have just experienced one of the worst things that can happen to a family, as you heal you will become aware of how strong you are.

The truth isn't that grieving is morbid, or a sign of weakness or mental instability.

The truth is that grieving is work that must be done. Now is the appropriate time. Allow yourself the time. Feel it, flow with it. Try not to fight it too often. It will get easier if you expect that it is variable, that some days are better than others. Be patient with yourself. There are no short cuts to healing. The active grieving will be over when all the work is done.

The truth isn't that grief is all-consuming.

The truth is that in the midst of the most agonizing time of your life, there will be laughter. Don't feel guilty. Laugh if you want to. Just as you must allow yourself the time to grieve, you must also allow yourself the time to laugh.Viewing laughter as part of the healing process, just as overwhelming sadness is now, will make the pain more bearable.

The truth isn't that one person can bear this alone.

The truth is that while only you can make the choices necessary to return to the mainstream of life a healed person, others in your life are also grieving and are feeling very helpless. As unfair as it may seem, the burden of remaining in contact with family and friends often falls on you. They are afraid to "butt in," or they may be fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing. This makes them feel even more helpless. They need to be told honestly what they can do to help. They don't need to be told, "I'm doing fine" when you're really NOT doing fine. By allowing others to share in your pain and assist you with your needs, you will be comforted and they will feel less helpless.

The truth isn't that God must be punishing you for something.

The truth is that sometimes these things just happen. They have happened to many people before you, and they will happen to many people after you. This was not an act of any God; it was an act of Nature. It isn't fair to blame God, or yourself, or anyone else. Try to understand that it is human nature to look for a place to put the blame, especially when there are so few answers to the question, "Why?" Sometimes there are answers. Most times there are not. Believing that you are being punished will only get in the way of your healing.

The truth isn't that you will be unable to make any choices or decisions during this time.

The truth is that while major decisions, such as moving or changing jobs, are better off being postponed for now, life goes on. It will be difficult, but decisions dealing with the death of your baby (seeing and naming the baby, arranging and/or attending a religious ritual, taking care of the nursery items you have acquired) are all choices you can make for yourself. Well-meaning people will try to shelter you from the pain of this. However, many of us who have suffered similar losses agree that these first decisions are very important. They help to make the loss real. Our brains filter out much of the pain early on as a way to protect us. Very soon after that, we find ourselves reliving the events over and over, trying to remember everything. This is another way that we acknowledge the loss. Until the loss is real, grieving cannot begin. Being involved at this early time will be a painful experience, but it will help you deal with your grief better as you progress by providing comforting memories of having performed loving, caring acts for your baby.

The truth isn't that you will be delighted to hear that a friend or other loved one has just given birth to a healthy baby.

The truth is that you may find it very difficult to be around mothers with young babies. You may be hurt, or angry, or jealous. You may wonder why you couldn't have had that joy. You may be resentful, or refuse to see friends with new babies. You may even secretly wish that the same thing would happen to someone else. You want someone to understand how it feels. You may also feel very ashamed that you could wish such things on people you love or care about, or think that you must be a dreadful person. You aren't. You're human, and even the most loving people can react this way when they are actively grieving. If the situations were reversed, your friends would be feeling and thinking the same things you are. Forgive yourself. It's OK. These feelings will eventually go away.

The truth isn't that all marriages survive this difficult time.

The truth is that sometimes you might blame one another, resent one another, or dislike being with one another. If you find this happening, get help. There are self-help groups available or grief counselors who can help. Don't ignore it or tuck it away assuming it will get better. It won't. Actively grieving people cannot help one another. It is unrealistic, like having two people who were blinded at the same time teach each other Braille. Talking it out with others may help. It might even save your marriage.

The truth isn't that eventually you will accept the loss of your baby and forget all about this awful time.

The truth is that acceptance is a word reserved for the understanding you come to when you've successfully grieved the loss of a parent, or a grandparent, or a beloved older relative. When you lose a child, your whole future has been affected, not your past. No one can really accept that. But there is resolution in the form of healing and learning how to cope. You will survive. Many of us who have gone through this type of grief are afraid we might forget about our babies once we begin to heal. This won't happen. You will always remember your precious baby because successful grieving carves a place in your heart where he or she will live forever.