Friday, January 13, 2012

Raw hope, deep sadness, trembling faith.

"It's Gabby's mom! Hi Gabby's mom! Hi! Hi!"
The totally adorable 3 year old kiddo on the bus was pointing at me, smiling, explaining to her father who she thought I was.

Any other day I would have found this funny and endearing and probably would have engaged in conversation with the family, but that day I almost started to cry, feeling like the universe was being particularly mean. I was on my way home from an appointment that confirmed what I already knew- I'd had a miscarriage.

It happened on new year's eve.

It was a pretty awful experience- on the physical side of things. Afterwards it felt like my insides had been beaten up or run over by a truck. Or both.

And it's been pretty shitty emotionally too. While I am still actively processing all of it, there's a part of me that is incredulous that it happened. But it did. The medical appointment a few days later drove that point painfully home. I didn't really want to go the appointment but knew it was the right thing to do. It really did feel like I was pulling the scab off a healing wound. Then, getting the lab work that confirmed the experience too. Can't hide from labs, especially when they are staring you in the face saying, 'Yes, your hcg level was elevated and is now dropping, confirming that you were pregnant but now you aren't.'
And I got minimally 'tsk-tsk'd' by the provider I saw (not my usual provider) for not going to the hospital when it was happening. I pointed out to her that I was an NP and knew what to watch for that would indicate something emergent, and besides what would they have done at the hospital? They couldn't stop it, and home is far more comfortable. She didn't have an answer for me.

The first 24 hours after it happened were really hard. I was heartbroken. I called a few people that I wanted to share with but had to stop because just saying the words 'I had a miscarriage' over and over made me cry.

The sense of loss, even over something that wasn't here for that long, was profound. I found myself mourning the loss of possibility.

It's been just about two weeks now since it happened and I am doing much better. For the first week I felt raw and had spontaneous crying moments. The second week was better.  My heart, soul and body are healing well.

I'm getting great love and support from family and friends. James has been amazing. He was sad at first too but is really holding onto the silver lining here- that we got pregnant in the first place, and that we will most likely again. Also, in a blatant attempt to make me smile at one point during that first day he said that clearly our future kid wants absolutely nothing to do with 2011 (which was a crazy year for us), and is going to wait till 2012. Works for me.

I really debated about posting about this. I felt (feel) vulnerable about what happened. I felt stronger as I shared my experience with others, and was empowered (and felt less alone) by other women in my life sharing their own miscarriage stories. It's humbling to realize how common this is and how little it is talked about. So, if me saying 'it happened to me too and I am OK' opens dialogue and helps anyone else down the road, then putting it out there for that purpose alone makes it absolutely worth it.

And after all this, hope and faith in the future-and myself- still prevail. 

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