I don't really know what I want to write right now. I feel like anything I right will be sad. Actually! That's what I want to write about. Being sad. Just typed it as the title of this post. Because this week, whenever anyone asks me how I'm doing this is the only word I can think of to really describe it. But then I always have to follow it up with, "But I'm okay", because I think that saying I'm sad gives people the wrong impression.
You see, I'm not depressed. Synonyms for sad are words such as depressed, discouraged, devastated. But I don't feel any of those things. I'm not depressed. In fact, I'm generally very happy. Even while I'm feeling sad, my heart simultaneously feels joy. Joy because of my family. Because of my husband. My children. My wonderful ward and neighbors and friends. And most of all because of my Savior.
But I am also sad. Sad for the loss of this baby. Sad for the future I was planning for that, for now, has changed.
Am I making sense? It seems strange that I can feel to completely conflicting emotions at the same time. And yet, even while I'm feeling both emotions, those around me only perceive the one or the other. I either am having a very okay moment and those around me think I must be doing so much better and that I'm moving on already. Or I look sad, or am in tears. Even though I really feel both most of the time.
Aside from feeling that joy and sadness ( really need to think of another word, because the word "sad" is starting to annoy me!) the only other thing I feel is a bit confused. And not as to why this happened or anything like that. I don't know why or what caused it and I don't really care. I trust that my Savior has worked those details out for me through His atonement. But confused at some of my emotions. Sometimes I feel frustrated that I'm here, stuck feeling sad and grieving this little life, while the rest of the world, including my own family, are for the most part moving on completely. Everyone else's lives seem to keep going just as before. The kids are caught up with the excitement of Christmas (thank heavens!). Jason is busy tending to them and their needs and my needs and everything else while I heal (although I'm sure he is grieving in his own way). And the rest of the world is finishing their Christmas shopping, planning their holidays, running errands, and thinking about what to make for dinner tonight. While I'm here thinking about this. It's all I can think about right now even when I have nothing really to think about it.
I wonder when I will feel normal again. When I will feel like this is distant. When it's something that I went through in the past that made me somehow stronger. I wonder when I won't think about it every minute or even every day. I wonder when my body will feel back to normal. Because my body is very confused right now. As of last night medication started to let my body know what had happened and that it was no longer pregnant. Physically, things have taken place and I know that my body is starting to catch up. But when will I feel normal again? When will I not find myself in tears at some point during the day? When will the healing and the hormones balance?
Added to sadness and joy and confusion is frustration. Frustration with some of the things people say. And then frustration with myself for being frustrated at those things. I know people are only trying to be sincere and helpful. As if their explanation will make me hurt less. Sometimes the things people come up with are beautiful and they lift my heart. Other times, as heartfelt as it may be, it hurts. Comments like, "Well, at least you were only 11 weeks along". As if it would have been less painful if I were only 6 weeks or more painful at 15. Would anyone ever say to someone who lost their 2 year old, "Well, at least she was only two. Thank heavens you didn't have her until she was 16!" And yes, I know that this miscarriage must be SO MUCH LESS painful than losing a child. I would never wish that on anyone! But comparing my pain to someone else's doesn't make it easier. Or comments like, "At least you have two children". Yes, I am so blessed with two beautiful, healthy, living children. They are such a light to me right now and I love them so much and am SO grateful for them! I see even more now how much of a blessing a healthy pregnancy is and what a miracle these two children are in my life. I honestly do. But that doesn't make me miss THIS baby any less. I know these people aren't trying to be mean. It just doesn't make sense to me.
Anyway, to those of you who are close to me, physically or emotionally, please don't be afraid of me while I process through this! Please don't treat me like I'm broken or fragile. And don't pretend that nothing has happened. I don't mind talking about it, and I don't mind questions, even if it does make me cry. It probably makes you more uncomfortable than it does me. I've found it helpful so far to talk. And when I don't feel like talking I won't answer more phone or I'll say so. You know me. I'm honest and blunt. I'll let you know.
For those of you who are curious about what happened, here it is. I had my first appointment with my midwives on Wednesday. I was 11 weeks and 1 day. It started off as a normal appointment. Pee in a cup. Paperwork. Weight. Blood pressure. Questions about previous pregnancies. Family history. Talked with the midwife about questions or concerns we were having. Internal examine. Uterus measuring just right at 11 weeks. Then time to hear the heartbeat.
When I was pregnant with Jack they couldn't find it. Turned out I was a little earlier on than I'd thought. So they ended up doing an ultrasound and there he was, just pumping away. Beautiful little boy. So I wasn't worried. This had happened to me before. So the nurse pulled in her portable machine and tried to find the baby. It took a minute, but there it was. That beautiful little peanut shape. I thought that was a great sign. But the midwife said her little machine sometimes doesn't pick up everything so we went down to the big one with the ultrasound tech. After looking for a minute all she said was I'm sorry. I knew what that meant. The baby was only measuring 9 weeks. That's when it died and stopped growing.
Jason and the kids were there. Jason took the kids out to the playroom. I was devastated for them. Jack just kept asking, "Is it a bwudda or a sista?! I saw the wittle baby go bump!" My heart broke to think of disappointing him. Payson understood a little better. When we explained what had happened we tried to focus on the fact that we'd try again later. They'd get a new baby someday. They seemed more concerned about how mommy was than anything else. So I went home and let myself cry alone for a while.
Because the baby was still there my midwife gave me options. I chose to wait and let things happen naturally. And then I realized that it may happen while I was alone, when Jason was gone. How would I handle myself emotionally without him there? Or handle the kids? Or what if it happened on Christmas Day? That wasn't how I wanted to spend our holiday. So I called and had the midwives call in a prescription.
I took the misoprostol last night. It was painful. I didn't sleep much. But it started the process. Now I just let things continue and go back in a couple of weeks to make sure my body is clean and there is no risk of infection. I was really afraid of last night. But it wasn't as bad as I had expected. Still very hard. But I survived it.
And now I'm here rambling on to cyber space about it. When really I'm not feeling very well physically and I need to go lie down. So that's where I'll be. Thank you for your prayers and your love and support. You don't know how much you have lifted me up this week. I have very much needed you. Every one of you. Especially one of you (you know who you are). I love you all. Merry Christmas.
