Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t

The past few days have been really tough. Starting with Monday; I don’t know why this was such a bad day, nothing in particular happened. I went for a 2.5 mile walk during my lunch hour with N; I ate healthy throughout the day. But I have just been in a funk. I just feel very… low. I wake up feeling like I didn’t want to get out of bed; I didn’t want to go to work; I didn’t want to see people and have to “fake it” all day.  That mood hasn’t left me yet.

Last night I went to a support group meeting. It was our last “official meeting” with the counselor, as we’d been meeting for six months (since March.) One of the girls couldn’t attend the meeting, so it was just three of us and the counselor. The two girls that were there with me are pregnant; one due at the end of this month, and the other due early next year (she is two weeks ahead of what I would be with Baby #2.) It was hard because I feel like the other girls are in different places than we were when we met; not that they are “over it” (because you can’t ever be “over it”) but they aren’t in that deep dark place. I am again. So it was sort of hard to be thinking that this is our last meeting, and look how much progress we’ve made, when I feel like… I’ve made no progress. Everyone was wonderfully supportive, and assured me that I’d grown since our first meeting, and I was strong, etc. etc. But it didn’t stop the tears. And the hurt. I left there emotionally drained. I really did not want to go, but The Husband thought it would be good for me since it would be the first time I’ve seen them since we lost Baby #2. We’ve emailed, and two of the girls sent me gifts of support, but hadn’t seen them. I am so thankful for them, and nobody else may ever understand my feelings except for those three. 

I’d been feeling so much lately like I just want to forget; I want to wake up one morning and not remember the past year. Give me a lobotomy. Do whatever, but just make me forget. And then I feel guilty; I never want to forget my babies. They existed. They are two souls. I am their mother, and if I don’t remember them, who will? Don’t they at least deserve for me to think about them, for me to remember them? But all it does is cause such hurt and pain and sadness.

Also I’ve been vacillating between whether or not we should try again. It is too soon to even be thinking about this; I haven’t had one period since the D&E, never mind two. And we don’t have the microarray results. But how can I not think about it? I don’t know how to not think about it. On the one hand, Monday and Tuesday I had been thinking “definitely not.” Then today I started thinking, “well, maybe,” and I feel certain that my baby is out there and I will meet that soul. I had been emailing with my friend K, and she suggested that maybe I needed a break from it all and all the pressure, and that a break would give me time to clear my head. But I am worried that if I take a break I will miss my chance. I already have an imposed break of at least two months while I wait for two cycles to pass. I just don’t want something to happen during a break that would halt all of my plans and prevent us from trying again. I had this vision of what motherhood would be for me, and our life, and what it would look like. Waiting much longer isn’t what it looked like. 

And what if I try again, and something even worse happens next time? My luck is obviously non-existent. I know that, as terrible as what happened is, there are situations that could be much, much worse physically and emotionally. I am terrified that something worse will happen if I am successful in getting pregnant again. That something even worse will happen to punish me for trying again even after losing two babies, for me being stupid enough to try again.

I just hope things start to feel a little better soon. I don’t need to be happy all day every day, I just want to feel better than this. I want to not feel like a zombie and have circles under my eyes. I want to  recognize some part of the “old me” in this “new me.” 

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14 Responses to Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t

  1. myfireflies says:

    I feel like I'm reading a book about my life when I read your posts. I told my husband that I just want to go to sleep and wake up in the year 2016. Not that I'm expecting anything in particular that year, but it will sure be far away from the pain I've felt this year. It seems to me that everyone suggests a “break”. And every time I hear that I want to disappear. Because I don't know how to tell them that I'm not sure I'll ever be happy if I don't have a living child. And it hurts to write it down, but it's my truth. I guess I'm telling you this just so you know you are not alone, and that your feelings are completely understandable. At least they are to me. Hoping you feel better soon.


  2. I could have wrote all of this once upon a time in the early days of my losses. I'm trying to think of what I would want someone to have told me, but words really fail me for this type of grief. With pregnancy loss, we have the sadness of the loss of our beloved child, while also dealing with the fear of trying again. It's a hard road to travel. I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you and praying for peace in the days ahead.


  3. Mel says:

    After my loss last year, I had all of these same EXACT thoughts and feelings. I hope you do try again and I hope that God blesses you with the beautiful rainbow that you've been praying for. I pray that He will lift the grief from you and give you peace. I know you will never forget your babies and I agree that you WILL be reunited with your children someday. Sending you lots and lots of great big hugs today!! XOXOXOXOXO


  4. Thank you for your kind words, especially since I know what a tough week this is for you. As you have provided me comfort in knowing I am not alone, I hope it has provided comfort for you too. We aren't alone, and our feelings are normal and to be expected. Thinking of you and hoping you are doing okay, or okay as you can be.


  5. Thank you so much. Even though we've all walked similar paths there are no words… the only words are of comfort and support and those are so very appreciated. So thank you.


  6. Thank you so much. It's a blessing to have people to hope for you when you don't have it in you yourself. One day I wish to have hope again.


  7. Jen MacKeen says:

    I have been reading your posts and feel like there are so many similarities in the posts we both write. I feel all of the same things that you have talked about. Do we try again or do we not? Is our life without a child really so bad? Will I still feel like this if I do get blessed with a child? A new child does not replace the one that we lost. All of these thoughts every day. I guess for me the possability that someday I will have a baby gives me some kind of hope. Even when I feel hopeless.

    I hope next week is a better week for you. I guess the saying one day at a time applies to people in grief as well…..


  8. I'll never forget an e-mail I sent to my husband about 2 months after we lost L about how I wanted to clean our washing machine and dryer that weekend (don't ask – it was super random). He wrote back how excited he was that I was actually interested in *something* again. It made me so sad to know how lost I'd been and how something so trivial would make him so happy.

    That's a long introduction to saying that when I read your post, I just was reminded about how low the lows are. I had such difficulty getting out of bed and getting through the day and I didn't find joy in anything. Please don't feel like you have to rush back to feeling like “you,” although when you do find that feeling again, it will be wonderful and I hope it is sooner rather than later. I'm thinking of you. You *can* pull through this, but it will take time and, at least in my experience, you can't rush it.

    As for trying again, you'll get there if/when you feel like it. I was ready to try again right away, but that was largely due to our fertility struggles and knowing that I don't have time on my side. Please, please don't feel like it always has to be the way it has been with your prior babies…

    I'm thinking of you.


  9. Yes, it certainly is one day at a time when dealing with grief. I think my gut feeling is that I will try again but sometimes the fear just screams and the hope whispers. But it helps reading words of encouragement and support from others, so thank you.


  10. Thank you for your words. I wish we never had to go through these lows. Or that they would last an hour and pass, instead of days or weeks. I'm trying to believe that I could have a healthy pregnancy but right now I'm batting 0 – 2 so it feels like an uphill battle. But I'm trying to believe. The Husband is more optimistic than I am, so maybe it's good that I have him!


  11. myhopejar says:

    Thinking about you hon. I so badly wish I could take some of your pain away. I feel like I could have written this post several times myself. I wavered a lot about whether to keep trying, but in the end for me, I just couldn't not try again. I felt in my heart that I would always regret it. Take it easy and be kind to yourself during this forced time off and see how you feel once those 2 cycles are over. I know for me, I was usually ready once I had the go ahead from my doctor.

    Hugs sweetie.


  12. Thank you so much for your support… I have actually been feeling a little bit better (not completely “normal” but better) since my acupuncture Thursday. I plan on putting up a post soon about it. Right now I feel in my heart that I want to try at least one more time and that I can't give up just yet. I just need to keep the fear at bay and try to listen to that quieter voice.


  13. ChickinNH says:

    Hi. I am a new reader to your blog and I feel compelled to say something, I just don't know what. I guess I just wanted to let you know I'm here and I'm reading and I can identify with so much of what you have expressed, not only in this post specifically but in so much of the last couple months that I read. I am so deeply sorry that you had to make such a heartbreaking decision TWICE and say goodbye twice – it is so completely unfair. The worry that I will be confronted with this again too plagues me every single day (I am currently PG after TFMR this past March at 20 weeks) and it is helpful to me to read about your experience. I think my biggest worry is that I will just break – mentally, emotionally – if this were to happen again but you are proof that despite the pain you still survive. I usually hate it when people tell me I'm strong but I do want you to know that I think you are strong. Thank you for putting yourself out there. You are helping others by sharing your pain. I hate that others feel this too but it's also somewhat comforting to read others experiences and be able to relate. Sending you big hugs from not too far away (So. NH). ❤


  14. Thank you so much for your comment. I started blogging mostly for myself, because putting pen to paper in a traditional journal was too hard for me. But I started reading other's stories and following their journeys and the support I've received from this online community is really remarkable. There are so many people I feel like I know them personally although I've never met them in “real life.” I'm so glad my blog was able to offer you some sort of comfort or hope – helping others make it even more worthwhile. I am so very sorry for your loss, nobody should have to experience what we have. I'll be heading over to read your story.


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