I thought I had it under control. I thought I had passed the worst of it. I thought I had dealt with it enough for it to stay hidden. I thought I had pushed it far enough down that I wouldn’t have to face it again.
I was wrong.
It’s been 13 months since my last miscarriage. I’m not sure if making it through the year anniversary of the date we lost the baby, or the year anniversary only a month before that from the 2nd miscarriage; is the cause of this grief popping up. Or if it’s the fact that I’ve been starting to have thoughts that maybe my journey to have another baby isn’t actually over yet. My therapist thinks that now I’m in a really healthy place in my life and things are going well, my subconscious has gone “OK she’s ready to deal with this now” and has bought it to the surface again. I guess that does make sense as I know I have this innate ability to block things that I’m not ready to deal with yet.
Whatever the reasoning behind it doesn’t actually matter I guess, because it’s hit me full force and I feel like I’m right back at the start again. And I’ve been through it three times now so I know I can do it again. But what I’m struggling with right now, is that I just don’t want to.
I don’t want to feel the loss anymore. I don’t want to experience the ache in my heart when I see a pregnant woman. I don’t want the agony of the flashbacks to my time in hospital. I don’t want the crippling pain of all the what if questions that come to the surface. I don’t want the bad dreams that make me not want to sleep.
I just don’t want to deal with it. The grief is too intense. The pain is still too real. And all I can sit here and do is cry and beg to have my babies back. I sit here and wonder if they were girls or boys. If they would have looked like me or their big sister. I sit here and ache to hold them just once and look into their eyes. To breath them in and feel their tiny hearts beating.
There is literally nothing I or anyone else can do to make it easier or to take the pain away. It’s something I just have to sit through and allow myself to go through each agonising process, step by step.
Because it hits me at random moments (like at work and I end up sitting in the bathroom crying into toilet paper and trying to keep my sobbing to a minimum), my therapist has suggested I allocate “grief time.” To actually designate time to sit and think about it and allow myself to cry. It kind of sounds weird I guess but it makes sense. That way I’m allowing myself to experience the emotions in a controlled environment and I’m getting the emotional release that I need so it doesn’t build up and release itself at inopportune moments. This way I can attempt to have some kind of control over it and when it bubbles up when I can’t actually deal with it, to kindly say to myself “It’s ok that you’re feeling upset, however now is not the time and you will have your time later.” It kind of sound clinical but I like it. I feel that I would rather control it than be an inconsolable mess at inappropriate moments.
She has also suggested I create a memory box so that I can hold the special things from that time and allow myself to remember the beautiful memories of when I was pregnant. I do have things hidden away that I couldn’t face looking at, but the idea of putting them in a special box and honouring their memory instead of hiding them, sounds nice. It even allows me to feel a little bit of peace about it all.
So many people have told me that you never get over it, you just learn to live with it. And I’m starting to see that this is so true. I think I have been fighting it and trying to “get over it” so I didn’t have to ever face it again. But I’m realising now that that isn’t possible. This is something that will live within me for the rest of my life. Nothing will ever make it better. Nothing will ever fill that void or make the feeling of loss go away. It’s a matter of finding my way of coping day by day so that over time it eventually gets that little bit easier and isn’t so crippling when it hits you.
Grief is one nasty and sneaky bitch that hits you when you least expect it. I’m hoping I can find a way to manage it a little better and cope with it in my own way again, rather than having it control me.
And I hope one day I can find a way to stop wishing things turned out differently so I can finally accept what happened and stop hating life for taking my precious babies away.