One Year

It’s been one year since my miscarriage.

It was actually yesterday.

A lot happens in a year. But that’s not news.

I want to say that this year was really hard. But it wasn’t. Not that it wasn’t hard. But it wasn’t my hardest. I am stronger now than I’ve ever been.

I guess what I’m saying is that loosing my baby was the hardest thing I’ve faced yet. It changed me. The world isn’t the same anymore. I’m not the same anymore.

I had lows where I thought ending my life was the answer, but I haven’t been there in this last year. In fact I didn’t even really go there when I lost, I think it made me value life more.

This year, a lot changed. I got on birth control, and not the pill type that I would often forget to take. I got the implant in my arm. I don’t get horribly emotional for that “time of the month” anymore. Those hormones were really messing with me. And I’m reassured that the next time I get pregnant will be when I am ready, and with someone that is also ready.

I stopped talking to my angel baby’s father April of last year. We haven’t talked since. I still peak at his Instagram occasionally, but I know it’s best he’s out of my life.

I’m healthier than I’ve ever been. I have “moments” now, but not days or weeks or months of depression.

No matter what, I still wish with every bit of me that things would have went differently. That I would have my baby today. He (or she) would have been five months old by now.

The other day a coworker of mine confided in me about her pregnancy, asking me about mine with my daughter. I didn’t want to bring up my experience with my miscarriage pregnancy, but then she told me her last ended in a miscarriage at 8 weeks. So I told her I had one too. I asked her due date and she said October. I felt a sting to my chest. Harlow’s due date was October, and she was as far along as I was when I miscarried. I felt a wave a grief. But I was still able to be happy for her, and hopeful.

No one else remembered this day. Not one family member or friend of mine. And I don’t necessarily blame them, but it still hurts.

I guess if it’s not something you’ve experience then you really don’t know..

Rest In Peace Harlow. Mommy misses you more than anything.

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5 am.

I lie awake. Can’t sleep, just not tired I guess. Hours pass, and before I know it I’m silently shouting at the ceiling to a God, “WHY?!” Any god really, the universe maybe. Or maybe just the ceiling. I don’t actually know. I’m not really religious, but I sometimes like to believe because it gives me hope that if I pray hard enough something will happen. 

Tears rolling down my cheeks. I sometimes forget how much it hurts being sad, but as soon as it hits me I’m instantly reminded. Burning in my throat, stuffed but runny nose, feeling as though my heart is on fire. It’s really painful. And whenever I think of one thing I’m sad about, I start thinking of everything else I’m sad about too. And it just gets worse and worse until I feel as though I cannot take it anymore. 

My uncle passed a year ago, my grandma too. Shitty year I thought. Then I lost my baby and my boyfriend I thought I would marry. My daughters father filed for full custody just so I would have to pay him child support. I had to move away from a place I loved, because my life went up in shambles. And I know I could have it worse, way worse, but damn. Things really haven’t been going my way for a bit. Thought I was cursed to be honest. 

I pray though. I pray for my sister, who is just 6 years younger than I. Only graduated from high school a few months ago, but I keep insisting she get a job. I frequently nag at her, “what’s your plan now?”

I want so badly for her life to turn out anything but mine. She’s moved in with her boyfriend though. I can’t help but feel ashamed because I feel she’s making the wrong choice. I don’t know if I’m too hard on her, but I wish she’d learn from my mistakes. Maybe that’s the problem though, I didn’t set a better example. 

I just want to see her chasing after dreams, like I’d wish I’d done. 

Life is a massive experience. I’ve felt pain I never knew of, happiness, ultimate unconditional love, envy, greed, anger, stress, anxiety, and peace. I’ve been able to grow up as a kid who called friends on landlines even before caller ID, to being a teenager with a flip phone that I could slam shut when I wanted to hang up on someone, and a now an adult with a touch screen phone that I can do almost anything with. 

Everything happens so fast. My daughter is about to start kindergarten! I swear I feel as though I only just gave birth to her a couple years ago. But time goes by even when you don’t feel it. 

It’s a catch 22 sort of thing. Or a double edged sword, some would say. Hurts one way or the other. Time goes slow and we wish for it to quicken, then we look back and wish we could relive it. 

I guess I should really pray to be more grateful, of all that I have. To appreciate the moments as they come. To learn how to be more supportive, rather than pushy. And as always, for guidance. Life goes by quick, I just want to be the best mother, daughter, sister, (and maybe someday wife) that I can be. 

Recalibration. 

It’s been awhile.

I came here to write that I’m okay, that in fact I’m doing great. That I’ve healed and that I’m actually happy.

But fuck is that a lie. I only realize that when I actually think about, and face the reality of what I’ve went through. I log in and scan the titles and beginnings of each blog entry. And it just hits me.

It’s been that way; whenever I’m feeling happy I stop for a minute just to imagine myself pregnant. I try to count how many weeks along I would have been now. I wonder then, how differently my life would be.

I hate myself for thinking that it’s better this way. Having no attachments to my ex. The one who wanted no part. The one who left for Vegas on the worst day of my life, the day it happened. The one I haven’t spoken to for three months now.

I still think of him though. More than I’d like to. I wonder if he would have ever changed his mind. I wonder if he thinks of me. I wonder if he’s moved on. And I question if I’m truly better off without him.

I had a dream the other night. Maybe some would call it a nightmare. I had given in, I had contacted him and we got back together almost immediately and I was happy. My friends and family were worried, and reluctant to believe it was good for me. I was trying to reassure them that it was better this way.

Waking up from that dream was confusing. Why would my subconscious be trying to tell me that? Or what was the meaning behind it? I didn’t act on it. No, I know better. And I have plenty of proof to back it.

But honestly. I have been doing better. Not in the sense that my life is amazing and perfect and exactly how I wanted or imagined it to be. No…

But I’ve been eating healthy, I’ve been taking care of myself, I’ve been helping my family, I’ve been spending quality time with my daughter, and all those things make me happy. They make me feel good. Long term, not just in the moment. And that’s what makes the difference.

I feel like I’m recalibrating myself. I don’t know exactly where I’m headed after summer. But I’m trying to focus on the present and doing all that I can now to make sure I go in the right direction from here.

-healing

This is my summer.

I haven’t really felt like writing. I haven’t really felt like much. I haven’t been feeling more sad, but I’ve been feeling less happy. 

This summer just feels like one huge setback. Here I am, in my hometown. In a place I didn’t think I would come back to. Single. Barely emotionally available to date.    And without the one thing I moved here for, my baby. 

The only good thing about living here is time. I know deep down I need time. I need the time to heal, and recover. 

It’s just hard to touch on those emotions. Even now my throat is closing up and tears dripping down my face as I even begin to think and write about this reality. 

Continuously I’m being asked; what’s next for me. Where will I go once the summer is over? 

And that’s the hard part. I don’t know. I don’t really know that I want to continue heading into the future, so much as I would rather go back to the past. 

My daughter is my one solid rock. She’s my motivation to keep going and to do better. I worry so much about failing her. 

I keep putting on this front like everything is okay, when the reality is it’s not. And I keep wondering why things hurt so much, and why I’m not happy. And how or when things will get better. 

This is my summer of recovery, of heartbreak, of readjustments, of healing, and of growth. 

I’m sorry.

They took us back into the exam room. We sat in chairs next to each other and the nurse went over a series of questions. I was 10 weeks and 4 days according to babies measurements from the last couple appointments, according to my LMP I would have been over 11 weeks. The nurse left and we sat together, and for a moment I felt happiness, it was nice to have him with me.

The doctor came in and said we would see if we could hear the heartbeat today. She hadn’t tried with the Doppler before this because she said it would be too early. My first appointment she measured by ultrasound and it was 160, the second appointment it was 134. I was looking forward to hearing the heartbeat, I could remember the joy it brought when I first heard my daughters.

She tried and after a few minutes she said it must still be too soon. We were able to do a abdominal ultrasound my second appointment so she tried that next. She wasn’t able to get a good picture, and that’s when my worry started, but I was still confused. What was happening?

She asked me to undress from the waste down so that we could do a transvaginal ultrasound.

After a few moments she was able to find the baby. I felt peace. I was waiting for that moment. Everything was okay.

“I’m not seeing a heartbeat…” the doctor started. “I’m sorry,” she said as she continued searching around. She measured the baby, “…looks like it’s measuring 9 weeks and 1 day..” The room never felt so small. I couldn’t understand. Everything was happening so fast. She said, “I’m going to have to get the on-call specialist and have her take a look.” and she left the room.

I sat with baby’s dad, who started questioning me. “What does this mean? What’s happening?” I don’t even remember what all he said, but I remember feeling completely numb.

The tool she used for the ultrasound had blood on it. That was the first I had seen any blood. My heart was breaking.

My doctor came back in with a lady dressed in all blue. She started with the transvaginal ultrasound again. She found the baby and started to try and measure the heartbeat. Nothing.

Next thing I know we were being sat down, “The next step from here is to think about whether you would like to do a D & C surgery, pass naturally, or we can give you some pills,” the doctor went into further detail, but all I could see was her mouth moving. How did this happen. She told us, “1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage and often it’s due to genetics and there’s nothing you did wrong or could have done to prevent this.”

The doctors left and baby’s dad said, “Is there nothing else they can do? Is this really it?”

I couldn’t believe it either.

He comforted me, and when we walked out to my car he hugged me and said he wished he didn’t have to leave. For once he was really there for me. But he was leaving for Vegas that day, he had to go for a work conference. He would be gone until Monday.

He left and I got in my car to drive home. My car wouldn’t start. Driving over that metal post and tire had in fact done damage. I felt cursed.

March 22nd will be a day I remember for the rest of my life. The worst day, the most painful day, a day I never want to relive.

 

Wednesday.

8:00 am

My alarm started blaring. It was Wednesday morning. My last doctors appointment was just two weeks ago and I was scheduled to go in again today. I had been looking forward to going to this one, because finally baby’s dad had agreed to go. His work schedule had prevented him from coming to the earlier ones, so this would be his first appointment. I was nervous as to how it would be with him there, because after all that had happened between us I didn’t know what to expect from him.

I woke up tired, but I knew I had to hurry and get me and my daughter ready so I would not be late to this appointment. It’s not unlike me to be running late, but this doctor would reschedule the appointment if I was more than 10 minutes late and I couldn’t risk that especially with him coming.

8:20 am

I finished getting ready and went to wake up my daughter who was also tired, and didn’t want to go to daycare. She resisted getting dressed and as such I started into a frantic, “I cannot be late today!” which was true, but it was something I often said.

8:36 am

My appointment was at 8:50 am. I needed to get her dropped off, which would take about five minutes and then get to my appointment which was about 12-15 minutes away. We finally got into the car, I didn’t have any time to lose.

The sun was shining bright that morning, and it was early so the air was cold. The frost on my window made it difficult to see, my windshield wipers were broken, the heat had gone out in my car, and I hadn’t stopped to scrape it before I left.

8:40 am

When driving into my daughters daycare I ran over a parking post that I couldn’t see with the mix of the sun and the frost I left on my window. It was a short metal post with a tire on the bottom to hold it up. The tire got lodged under my car, but I had no time to lose. The impact of the post did nothing to the front of my car and neither my daughter or I was hurt, so I carried on. I quickly ran inside to drop her off, and raced to my appointment. The tire slid out at some point early on, fortunately.

8:57 am

I ran from the parking lot into the hospital and up to the fourth floor where my doctor’s office was. I met with baby’s dad right before checking in. It was nice to see him, even though my feelings were so tender. Would this appointment change anything? 

(To Be Continued)

Who am I?

I guess it’s time I introduce myself and give a little back story.

I’m 24 years old. I grew up in a small town and lived there up until just a couple years ago. I moved to a bigger city a couple hours away to get my bachelors degree.

When I was 18 I found out I was pregnant with my boyfriend. That pregnancy came with as much surprise and unpreparedness. I had a beautiful baby girl.  Her father and I split up after she was a year old, and we share custody although it’s still an on-going battle.

Thus far, the life I had imagined when I was younger has been far from the life I have lived. But time and time again I’ve been reminded that everything happens for a reason, I’m a big believer in that.

I enjoy the outdoors, love to go skiing, camping, ice skating, hiking, etc. I also love movies and am a fequent Netflix binger. I used to enjoy going out and enjoying the night life scene, but even before this pregnancy it started to loose its pizazz that it had in the beginning.

I have struggled with depression and anxiety throughout my life and I have been working to better myself.

Once again I feel like I am restarting my life and many of my dreams that seemed within reach are now postponed for a later time.

But who am I now? For the past year I associated myself as his girlfriend.

I spent my weeks looking forward to our weekends and our holidays. I spent my days texting him. I spent so much time getting to know him and had grown so accustomed to doing things with him. And now, not only am I without him, but I am carrying our child that will soon be born into this world of mine.

But, I’m still trying to figure out my own place in this world. Yet, soon, I will be bringing another life into it.
And honestly I’m scared to death.
But I wake up everyday and I try.
I tell myself it will be okay. I tell myself that there’s a bigger picture here, and I can’t see it all just yet.

I’m searching to reconnect with myself, and to learn to love myself again, because in our relationship I spent so much of myself loving him, and devoting my life to please him, that in the end I lost much of myself.

The beginning.

He finally got back and we spent the weekend together. Nothing was the same. We were both being torn apart by our differences in beliefs, values, upbringing, and this decision we now faced. This was only the beginning.

“I don’t think anyone “likes” the idea of abortion. But there’s people who agree that sometimes it’s the best option, and those who don’t. I know for a fact I couldn’t give a child what they deserve at this stage in my life and I would hate myself for that forever. I’m scared to death that you’ll say it’s your body and completely disregard how I feel because you get mad at me or something and then my whole life is in the hands of someone else. This is literally killing me inside. You even said “I’ll do this all myself.” Before you left. It’s like the threats are already happening.”

“I do think abortion is our best option. We are both not financially prepared and that would be a harsh environment on that baby and I hate the idea of that. I’m not emotionally or prepared maturity wise to have a child. I want us rather to be saving up and be married and be prepared to bring a life into this world. I know that it’s against your values and I don’t like the idea of it too much either, but it really is our best option. We both said we didn’t want this to happen. And I believe that’s why this is the best option. If we did do this, I want you to know that I would be there for you through it all; and yes, it would hurt, but I believe it’s the right thing to do.”

“I want you to know that despite how hard it would be, and how much pain we would have to help each other get through. I think it would bring us closer together. I know that overcoming your values to make a choice like that would be incredibly hard, but I would respect the fact that if you did it, that you made the right choice for BOTH of us. I just need you to know that it would be the right choice though. I really do understand that it would hurt you emotionally, but I’ll be there with you every step of the way and I promise you we will make it through this.”

Those were the texts I received from him after leaving his house that Sunday morning.

He had a point, we weren’t prepared. We weren’t prepared for any of this. What had we even been doing? Why had we never discussed these “what if’s” before this situation occurred. Why had we not been more careful.

What his texts don’t say, is that he will be there for me no matter what. Specifically he states that if I go through with this (abortion) then he will be there for me. He hopes that I can overcome my values, but he doesn’t offer to give up any of his.

Was this love? Was this a relationship that could get through anything? I was really beginning to wonder.

He talked in terms of logic, but there was so more to it than that.

I read stories of women and their regret. I read stories of women and their pain. I read stories of women facing miscarriage, and hurting deeply for the loss that he was suggesting I CHOOSE.

I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it.

I was caught between making the ultimate sacrifice for a relationship that may or may not last, and loosing someone I found myself loving deeply and wanting a future with.