Lately it seems that I only blog when I'm grieving. I suppose it's because writing is therapeutic, as is sharing. And because the only time I am able to sit down on my own and write for "pleasure" is when I'm a blubbering mess and therefore earn the coveted and rare gift of alone time. Also, for certain topics, I believe in sharing my experience so that others may benefit and feel a little less alone when they experience a similar loss. With miscarriage, I believe sharing is particularly important. It is a very common grief. One THIRD of known pregnancies end in miscarriage. There are a lot of women dealing with this loss, perhaps some of the (5) readers who will see this post. Yet there is tremendous shame around miscarriage in our culture, and the topic tends to get swept under the rug. Screw that!!
So here's a quick snapshot of the emotional roller coaster ride we have been on the past 2 weeks:
So that brings me to the present. Today, I am staying home from school for the first time since I started last fall. My type A perfectionist tendencies will just have to shut it. Staying home is an exercise in leaning on others; specifically my wonderful clinic partners Alyssa and Rachel, who will conduct the evaluation of a stroke survivor's communication impairments, which I was supposed to lead as part of my clinical training. My dear friend Amy will record the lecture that I am missing this morning on stroke-related swallowing disorders . And I'm guessing that my clinic supervisors and professors will understand, and remind me once again that when it comes down to it, most people have very compassionate hearts, particularly in this wonderful profession.
I am going to spend the day crying, writing, and listening to sappy music. Tonight, Rob and I will bury the embryo that passed from my body this morning; a seed-sized remnant of a living being who, despite his/her tiny size, already had such a huge impact on my body and our emotions. I will likely continue to cry when I see posts from friends having their 2nd or 3rd babies, because it will make me wonder if Elliot will ever get a chance to pose in those cute family photos with a baby brother or sister. I am going to practice gratitude for my precious son, as I am once again reminded of what a miracle his existence is. Tomorrow evening I will go for a walk with a dear friend who has experienced this same grief. Healing comes in so many forms, and at times like these, a girlfriend can serve as a real-life angel.
If any of you women who read this have experienced a similar loss, know that you are not alone. You have a wide, far-reaching sisterhood of women who have been there; who have experienced this unique and confusing loss. Before you try to blame yourself for it, remember that you did nothing wrong. In a culture of miscarriage-shame, I will be reminding myself of this fact as well.
So here's a quick snapshot of the emotional roller coaster ride we have been on the past 2 weeks:
- STEP 1: 1st pregnancy test turns up negative. feel mostly relieved for all the reasons described in this previous post about having a 2nd child. And because at this point in our lives, I already feel spread far too thin between school, parenting, and family (which is ironic b/c as a result of being so busy, I don't have time to exercise, and thus being "spread too thin" is purely metaphorical relative to my ever-expanding ass).
- STEP 2: four days later, 2nd pregnancy test turns up positive. Feel panicked for all the reasons described in the aforementioned post. Then feel excited.
- STEP 3: excitement continues to grow as we realize that we WILL be able to figure out how I can finish school after the baby is born sometime around Dec. 22 (the due date, according to the fount of all procreational knowledge...and no, I'm not talking about my OB-GYN...I'm talking about babycenter.com).
- STEP 4: decide not to tell anyone until after the 1st trimester, given that I've had a miscarriage already (before Elliot).
- STEP 5: begin to tell my girlfriends who have had miscarriages. There are many of them. They are all amazing, wonderful women, and I want to be able to lean on them for support if I lose this pregnancy.
- STEP 6: order maternity clothes because my pants are getting abnormally snug. Apparently with the 2nd pregnancy, your tummy pops out right away.
- STEP 7: decide to let myself feel joy and gratitude about the pregnancy; to live in the moment despite what the future may bring. Brene Brown, my new favorite self-help author (and Oprah's new BFF) talks about how many of us find joy to be one of the most frightening emotions. We tend to hold back from enjoying the gifts we have in our lives, thinking that this will protect us from the agony of losing them (e.g. that thought that you have when things seem to be going "too well" and you think "oh shit, I better not get too used to this, because at any moment, things could fall apart. My husband and child could be in a car crash. My parents could get cancer. I could have a stroke. Etc...etc..."). Here's a somewhat cheesy and melodramatic but AWESOME clip of Brene (yeah, we're on a first name basis) discussing this exact topic with, you guessed it, Oprah.
- STEP 8: Come home from an insane day at work/school and soon after, discover the tell tale signs of a miscarriage. Although it is common for women to have spotting in the first trimester, my gut just tells me what's up. I may have even known before I saw that first terrifying flash of red.
- STEP 9: try to explain to Elliot why mommy is crying and laying on the couch, and why it's probably not a good idea for him to jump on my belly during our nightly cuddling-wrestling routine. He promptly offers me medicine and a band-aid, which warms my heart like nothing else could.
- STEP 10: tell all those wonderful ladies I mentioned in step 5, as well as all the family members we told. As expected, they surround me with virtual hugs, love, and support. I am so grateful for my support network.
So that brings me to the present. Today, I am staying home from school for the first time since I started last fall. My type A perfectionist tendencies will just have to shut it. Staying home is an exercise in leaning on others; specifically my wonderful clinic partners Alyssa and Rachel, who will conduct the evaluation of a stroke survivor's communication impairments, which I was supposed to lead as part of my clinical training. My dear friend Amy will record the lecture that I am missing this morning on stroke-related swallowing disorders . And I'm guessing that my clinic supervisors and professors will understand, and remind me once again that when it comes down to it, most people have very compassionate hearts, particularly in this wonderful profession.
I am going to spend the day crying, writing, and listening to sappy music. Tonight, Rob and I will bury the embryo that passed from my body this morning; a seed-sized remnant of a living being who, despite his/her tiny size, already had such a huge impact on my body and our emotions. I will likely continue to cry when I see posts from friends having their 2nd or 3rd babies, because it will make me wonder if Elliot will ever get a chance to pose in those cute family photos with a baby brother or sister. I am going to practice gratitude for my precious son, as I am once again reminded of what a miracle his existence is. Tomorrow evening I will go for a walk with a dear friend who has experienced this same grief. Healing comes in so many forms, and at times like these, a girlfriend can serve as a real-life angel.
If any of you women who read this have experienced a similar loss, know that you are not alone. You have a wide, far-reaching sisterhood of women who have been there; who have experienced this unique and confusing loss. Before you try to blame yourself for it, remember that you did nothing wrong. In a culture of miscarriage-shame, I will be reminding myself of this fact as well.
