I Try

Ok, so that last post was pretty positive. Maybe I should just leave it at that. But as the anniversary date draws near, I'm finding it more and more difficult to be strong and upbeat.

I cannot believe it's been almost a year. I thought things would be so different at this time. Well, last year I thought we would be welcoming a baby. And then once I finally accepted that wouldn't happen, I thought this time would at least hold something else, something to look forward to. But it doesn't. I feel like I'm in the same place I was after we lost the baby: hopeless and left behind.

It's really hard to see how much has changed for so many people in this past year. New babies, new homes, new jobs, etc. And here I am in the same place I was. Sure, maybe I'm not in as desolate a place. But I don't feel like my life has moved forward at all. I've changed jobs within this past year, and that has been a great change and something that has really helped me move forward. But as far as my personal life...ugh.

It's really hard to be in a personal funk. So much of my job is being positive and motivating other people. If people only knew how hard it is for me to do that while I feel the way that I do. I feel like I live a double life and I'm so exhausted by the end of the day, it's crazy. Sometimes working with other people is helpful. I get inspired by them and it makes it that much easier to get through my day. But at this time, it's not really that helpful. I just want to crawl in a hole and stay there. I would love to just sleep for days.

I don't understand why people don't talk more about these things. I can somewhat understand why people don't want to talk about miscarriage. Well, maybe not. It's a loss just like any other, maybe worse in some ways, and it should be treated with the same respect and consideration as anyone else dealing with loss. But it isn't. I have to put on a brave face and act like nothing happened to me. I have to act like there isn't someone missing from my family. It's so not fair. I just wish people would acknowledge what we are going through. It would make this anniversary a lot less painful if I could actually talk about it.

Sigh.

Don't Talk to Strangers

Today Keller's school had their Halloween parade. The kids dress up and then have a parade around the school. It's fun and sweet and everyone has a great time.

I was standing with some parents of kids in Keller's class. We were just talking about random stuff and all of a sudden I found myself telling the mom of one of Keller's friends my life story. The terrible pregnancy with Keller, the miscarriage, the turmoil we've been in. I hardly know this person. And I'm spilling my guts. She didn't mind, she made it very easy for me to just open up.

Why is that we can spill our guts to complete strangers? But yet we have trouble talking to the people we're closest to. I don't get it. I have to say how cathartic it was to talk to her this morning. I don't talk about what's been going on much anymore because it feels like everything thinks we should be over it. So it felt relieving to get some of it off my chest.

Things have been all right this past week. Last week was awful. But this week was all right. I have been really busy with work and home, so I guess the distraction has been good. There have been less days where I feel like I'm teetering on the edge.

Anyway, the next time you're feeling like you need to talk and get something off your chest, talk to someone who doesn't know you. There's no judgment, there's no history, there's nothing. It will make you feel better :)

Pictures of You

I haven't written about this because writing it would mean that it actually happened.

On July 24th, we lost our baby.

I had been having bad abdominal pains all week. We had gone into the OB's office, had a sonogram, everything looked fine. The baby was perfect. But these pains just wouldn't stop.

Thursday evening they got really bad. And then I started bleeding. I knew it was not good. I went to the satellite ER that's near our house. John got one of our neighbors to come and stay with Keller and he joined me. We were there for a couple of hours. They did another sonogram and saw that the baby was in the birth canal and the placenta started to tear. I was in labor. The pain was unimaginable. I had multiple doses of morphine and dilaudid and it did nothing. It was awful.

They transferred me to Shady Grove Hospital. We delivered our baby in the early hours of Friday, July 24th. It was the single worst day of my life.

The last two months have been the hardest to get through. I have never experienced a hurt so bad before. I have never felt so empty and alone. We have had to try to be "normal" for Keller. He's definitely seen us upset and we've told him what happened. He understands to a certain degree, about as much as a 4-year old can understand.

I left my job. I couldn't possibly deal with this while working there. For the first time in my life I don't really give a damn about anything other than being true to my feelings and taking care of myself and my family. I just couldn't do that while working there. I left August 14th and haven't regretted it a single day. I working from home now, doing the marketing and promotion for Fleet Feet Sports, Gaithersburg. I've worked with them since 2006, so I feel good coming back full-time. And so far it's been good.

I can't really put into words how terrible this has been for us. Losing our child has been the absolute worst thing that has ever happened to us. We were almost halfway through the pregnancy. We made it through the cerclage surgery. We thought we were out of the woods. We thought we would be welcoming a new baby this winter.

We found out we had a boy. A little boy. Keller had a brother. My heart aches for what he has lost. I picture in my head what the two of them would have been like together. What trouble and fun they would have, what we all would have had. And now there will always be someone missing from our family.

We are doing the best we can. We take it day by day and some days are far better than others. I feel like I'm moving through life extremely slowly. I feel like I'm watching other people go on with their lives and I'm just sort of stuck here. Things go on, obviously, but in my heart, I'm stuck. I know I won't ever "get over" this and anyone that thinks you get over losing your child, born or not, is sadly mistaken. Just because we can have a conversation and perhaps laugh and smile, doesn't mean we're "better" and "over it." It means we are all right on the surface but deep down we're broken and trying to heal. There will always be a scar on my heart and this is now part of who I am. I am not the same person I was when I found out I was pregnant. I'm different, sadder, and a piece of me has died.

I'm writing this for a number of reasons. It helps me feel slightly lighter getting some of the emotion out. I leave pieces of my sadness everywhere. And that takes some of the weight off of me. I'm writing it so people will understand what a loss like this does to people. While everyone is different and how they grieve is different, losing a child like this is a multi-dimensional thing. It's different than other forms of grief and loss. It just is. And the term "miscarriage" just doesn't cover all the physical and emotional pain that comes with it. Miscarriage is an ugly word.

Lastly, I'm writing this to help other people going through this understand that they're not alone. While having friends and family supporting me has been extremely helpful, knowing other people going through this at the same time has also been helpful. Knowing that I can be sad and not explain why is more helpful than you would think.

Take care.