I posted this at my other blog site, finally (publicly) addressing the fact that I had miscarriages....
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I know I've been neglecting you all lately. Sorry about that. I still need to fill you in on what's been happening over here, but instead, let me use today to address something that several people have mentioned lately. Deep breath.....
Okay...in case you didn't know...I had two miscarriages last year. I have a separate blog that I started back then that I didn't share with anyone. I linked it here, but don't visit unless you are seriously prepared to hear to the gory details. Also, it is VERY personal, as personal as personal gets. I can't even believe some of the things that I shared on there, so A) don't be offended, B) don't be a jerk. My husband "knows some people who know some people who robbed some people." So, don't mess with me.
Another round of friend pregnancies. They seem to come in waves. Friends: please know that I AM happy for you. I am also a tad jealous, but that does not mean that I hate you, nor does it mean that you can not talk about your baby in my presence. A few months ago, that would have been the case, but I'm better now, really. :)It is pretty crazy to think that if we hadn't suffered the first miscarriage, we would have a newborn baby in our house now. That is really hard for me to imagine.I'm struggling a little with the future of Shareapy. At first, it was just for me, then it was also for strangers who needed to know they weren't alone. That part of my life was something I didn't talk about except in the company of close friends and family, but why? Because I didn't want to make people uncomfortable. No one wants to hear about my dead babies. AWKward....
It is very strange to think that someone who hasn't had a miscarriage and doesn't even know me might read that site. It feels like that dream I have where I forget that I haven't shaved my legs in months, but I go walking around in shorts and everyone is laughing at me, but I don't realize it until I've been out for hours.We are such a voyeuristic society that we like to watch other people's pain up close. Does it make us feel more human to connect to someone's misery? Or does it make us feel better about our own lives? Either way, I engage in it, too. It is the reason I watch reality TV and read other people's blogs. It is just very surreal for me to be on the other side of the looking glass. I've given everyone in school the key to my diary...why would I do that?! I guess I just want everyone to have some insight. Maybe if we talk about miscarriages more openly, the women who experience them won't have to live dual lives--smiling and laughing while they die inside. And,I think it will be a relief that I can talk how this still affects me now.
Here's the deal...the secret is out now. I had two miscarriages. It is a part of who I am. It doesn't mean that I want to bring it up in everyday conversation, but I'm not so fragile anymore that I will burst into tears if it does come up.I'm not going to go into detail, but let me just clear up one thing right now: Miscarriages are a big deal. A HUGE, GIANT, ELEPHANT-SIZED deal. It feels like you lost everything. That might not make sense to someone who has never experienced it, but just take my word for it. I remember what went through my head before I had one. It was something like, "Oh, that sucks. But, they can try again." Oh, dear Lord. Just imagine...every single day, this person will wake up and remember that they were supposed to be pregnant today. Every day takes them closer to a due date that won't come. It is a DAILY struggle.
If you know someone who's had a miscarriage, you are probably wondering what to say to them. Feel free to email me and I can give you some pointers.
What I found especially difficult is that there weren't a lot of resources immediately available to help me. I didn't know what to expect physically or emotionally. I had to do a lot of research on my own, which just made me feel even more alone. Hopefully, other doctors provide more support than mine did.With a miscarriage, there is no one else to feel your pain, except your spouse. While your husband is equally devastated, even he didn't have the physical connection to the baby that you did. The memories are all in your head. They are just visions you created of the love you'd share with your future child. No one can share in your pain because they didn't know your child.
Anyway, my whole point is that I think I will keep Shareapy a separate site because the ladies that need support right now don't want to hear about the necklace I bought last week or some hilarious website or Anna's latest revelation. When they get to a place that they can laugh and smile again, they are welcome with open arms over here at CFB. Meanwhile, all my lovely CFB readers may, once in awhile, hear about how I'm feeling in regard to my miscarriages, because that is as much a part of me as the fact that I can't go two days without gushing over Twilight. Twilight, Twilight, Twilight! I love Twilight!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Stephenie Meyer, my salvation
I started this as a journal, of sorts, for myself. I figured that if it helped someone, that would be a perk. I see now that there was a comment on my first entry, so I'm thinking that people may actually be reading this, so I should try to pass on some wisdom.
When I first experienced my miscarriages, I did a lot of searching on the internet and it did help to find blogs of other women who had been through this. Just knowing that you aren't alone helps a little. At first, it felt like I would never be at a point where I could even function, let alone be happy. I'm glad to say that I am now in a place where I can go a day, sometimes longer, without thinking about the miscarriage. As a disclaimer, everything expressed here relates to my situation and no one else's. I realize that what worked for me, may not be what someone else needs.
Having come out on the other side of this mess, I can now share with you what helped me. Again, I stress that this helped me. It may or may not apply to you, but I figure that anything is worth a shot when you are absolutely miserable.
Yesterday, I posted that being on meds helps keep the pain at bay. Again, medication may not be for everyone, but it has given me a welcome relief. I am a very emotional person under normal circumstances. Under the duress of two miscarriages, I was a wreck. Normally, I would say that I enjoy being able to feel emotions at their rawest form--it does make me feel alive. I've heard someone say that she didn't feel like herself when she took medication because she couldn't feel emotion. I needed a break from the emotion. Anyway, my post yesterday reminded me of the book, New Moon.
Laugh if you want, but the Twilight series was the buoy that I needed in my storm. Seriously. I picked it up about 6 weeks after the second miscarriage and it was exactly what I needed. I had tried to read a book about getting through miscarriages, but it just made me even more miserable. I found no comfort in religion. I needed a distraction. I became engrossed in this series and they gave me something else to think about. It got me through the roughest part. Then, I decided that I was ready to try medication. I'm still totally in love with the books and have read them all twice. If you haven't gotten hooked yet, you might give them a try. The second book, New Moon, really hit home. The main character goes through a very dark time in her life and I was really able to connect with her pain. Sure, she is 17 and I'm 30. She is fictional and I am...not. She lost her first love and I lost two children, but...we are both women and we bear some absolutely unbearable pain.
Here are some pieces of wisdom from New Moon (copyright Stephenie Meyer)...
"I wished I could feel numb again, but I couldn't remember how I'd managed it before. The nightmare was nagging at my mind and making me think about things that would cause me pain....Even as I shuddered away from the images, I felt my eyes fill with tears and the aching begin around the edges of the hole in my chest. I took one hand from the steering wheel and wrapped it around my torso to hold it in one piece." (pg 123)
"The hole came back, the way it always did when I was away from Jacob, but it didn't throb so badly around the edges. I was already planning ahead, looking forward to more delusions, and that was a distraction...That made the empty hole and the familiar pain easier to bear; relief was in sight. The nightmare, too, had lost a little of its potency. I was horrified by the nothingness, as always, but I was also strangely impatient as I waited for the moment that would send me screaming into consciousness. I knew the nightmare had to end." (pg 193)
"I was like a lost moon--my planet destroyed in some cataclysmic, disaster-movie scenario of desolation--that continued, nevertheless, to circle in a tight little orbit around the empty space left behind, ignoring the laws of gravity." (pg 201)
"I was an empty shell. Like a vacant house--condemned--for months I'd been utterly uninhabitable. Now I was a little improved. The front room was in better repair. But that was all--just the one small piece..." (pg 216)
When I first experienced my miscarriages, I did a lot of searching on the internet and it did help to find blogs of other women who had been through this. Just knowing that you aren't alone helps a little. At first, it felt like I would never be at a point where I could even function, let alone be happy. I'm glad to say that I am now in a place where I can go a day, sometimes longer, without thinking about the miscarriage. As a disclaimer, everything expressed here relates to my situation and no one else's. I realize that what worked for me, may not be what someone else needs.
Having come out on the other side of this mess, I can now share with you what helped me. Again, I stress that this helped me. It may or may not apply to you, but I figure that anything is worth a shot when you are absolutely miserable.
Yesterday, I posted that being on meds helps keep the pain at bay. Again, medication may not be for everyone, but it has given me a welcome relief. I am a very emotional person under normal circumstances. Under the duress of two miscarriages, I was a wreck. Normally, I would say that I enjoy being able to feel emotions at their rawest form--it does make me feel alive. I've heard someone say that she didn't feel like herself when she took medication because she couldn't feel emotion. I needed a break from the emotion. Anyway, my post yesterday reminded me of the book, New Moon.
Laugh if you want, but the Twilight series was the buoy that I needed in my storm. Seriously. I picked it up about 6 weeks after the second miscarriage and it was exactly what I needed. I had tried to read a book about getting through miscarriages, but it just made me even more miserable. I found no comfort in religion. I needed a distraction. I became engrossed in this series and they gave me something else to think about. It got me through the roughest part. Then, I decided that I was ready to try medication. I'm still totally in love with the books and have read them all twice. If you haven't gotten hooked yet, you might give them a try. The second book, New Moon, really hit home. The main character goes through a very dark time in her life and I was really able to connect with her pain. Sure, she is 17 and I'm 30. She is fictional and I am...not. She lost her first love and I lost two children, but...we are both women and we bear some absolutely unbearable pain.
Here are some pieces of wisdom from New Moon (copyright Stephenie Meyer)...
"I wished I could feel numb again, but I couldn't remember how I'd managed it before. The nightmare was nagging at my mind and making me think about things that would cause me pain....Even as I shuddered away from the images, I felt my eyes fill with tears and the aching begin around the edges of the hole in my chest. I took one hand from the steering wheel and wrapped it around my torso to hold it in one piece." (pg 123)
"The hole came back, the way it always did when I was away from Jacob, but it didn't throb so badly around the edges. I was already planning ahead, looking forward to more delusions, and that was a distraction...That made the empty hole and the familiar pain easier to bear; relief was in sight. The nightmare, too, had lost a little of its potency. I was horrified by the nothingness, as always, but I was also strangely impatient as I waited for the moment that would send me screaming into consciousness. I knew the nightmare had to end." (pg 193)
"I was like a lost moon--my planet destroyed in some cataclysmic, disaster-movie scenario of desolation--that continued, nevertheless, to circle in a tight little orbit around the empty space left behind, ignoring the laws of gravity." (pg 201)
"I was an empty shell. Like a vacant house--condemned--for months I'd been utterly uninhabitable. Now I was a little improved. The front room was in better repair. But that was all--just the one small piece..." (pg 216)
Monday, March 9, 2009
Gone so long...and really none the wiser
Wow. Just rereading my entries. Bitter much?
I guess the difference now is that I'm on meds. Nothing hurts quite as bad. It is like, you know the pain is there, but you just feel the edges of the pain--not the whole thing. I'm in therapy, too, but I'm going to have to cut back to once a month instead of the once a week that felt really good.
For months, we have gone back and forth between, A) Let's have a baby right now. and B) Who needs another mouth to feed? Not us.
We had decided to wait until the new year to even talk about it. The new year came and went and we are no closer to a decision than we were.
There was a big ugly date that was posted to our bulletin board that kept screaming at me in exclamation points. (Is there any other way to scream?) Long story, but the short version is that our daughter's crib was recalled last summer. Since she was 2-1/2, we went ahead and moved her to a toddler bed. We figured that we would be needing the crib again soon anyway. We received a voucher for a new crib and we would have to purchase this crib by 1/31/09. That seemed like a million years away, so no biggie. Then, of course, the unthinkable happened.
Suddenly, this voucher and its date were mocking me. So cruel. We still hadn't made a decision by The Date, though I thought about it every day, so we took it to the baby store and picked out a stupid crib for a baby that probably won't get conceived. I, being on meds, actually made it through the experience I'd been dreading with little emotion. Hub, not being on meds, really struggled with it. He hated every minute and couldn't wait to leave. I don't even remember what we picked out, but it is sitting in the garage, still in the box. Where it will remain. Possibly until the end of time. We would give it away, but, what if?
I got laid off last week, so now all is in chaos. I guess we've tabled the discussion yet again.
I guess the difference now is that I'm on meds. Nothing hurts quite as bad. It is like, you know the pain is there, but you just feel the edges of the pain--not the whole thing. I'm in therapy, too, but I'm going to have to cut back to once a month instead of the once a week that felt really good.
For months, we have gone back and forth between, A) Let's have a baby right now. and B) Who needs another mouth to feed? Not us.
We had decided to wait until the new year to even talk about it. The new year came and went and we are no closer to a decision than we were.
There was a big ugly date that was posted to our bulletin board that kept screaming at me in exclamation points. (Is there any other way to scream?) Long story, but the short version is that our daughter's crib was recalled last summer. Since she was 2-1/2, we went ahead and moved her to a toddler bed. We figured that we would be needing the crib again soon anyway. We received a voucher for a new crib and we would have to purchase this crib by 1/31/09. That seemed like a million years away, so no biggie. Then, of course, the unthinkable happened.
Suddenly, this voucher and its date were mocking me. So cruel. We still hadn't made a decision by The Date, though I thought about it every day, so we took it to the baby store and picked out a stupid crib for a baby that probably won't get conceived. I, being on meds, actually made it through the experience I'd been dreading with little emotion. Hub, not being on meds, really struggled with it. He hated every minute and couldn't wait to leave. I don't even remember what we picked out, but it is sitting in the garage, still in the box. Where it will remain. Possibly until the end of time. We would give it away, but, what if?
I got laid off last week, so now all is in chaos. I guess we've tabled the discussion yet again.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Results
About six weeks after the D&C, we got the results from the fetal sample, which was inconclusive. The doctor had told me this would probably happen, but I was still hoping it would provide some magical answer that would put my mind at ease.
At the end of November, we got the results from the extensive blood work that my doctor did on me. The purpose was to see if there was any obvious reason for the miscarriages...thyroid, clotting, diabetes...I can't even remember the rest. The results were all normal, aside from the fact that I apparently have a genetic pre-disposition to heart disease...swell...so nothing new to report there.
Obviously, we're glad there is nothing wrong with me, but it would have been nice to hear, "Oh, here is the problem...Pop some baby aspirin and you'll be all good next time."
Regardless of what anyone says, I will always wonder if I did something wrong to cause this. And, without something to pinpoint the problem, I will carry this fear that it might happen again. And, yes, fear is going to hold me back. I know, "a life half-lived" and all that jazz.
At the end of November, we got the results from the extensive blood work that my doctor did on me. The purpose was to see if there was any obvious reason for the miscarriages...thyroid, clotting, diabetes...I can't even remember the rest. The results were all normal, aside from the fact that I apparently have a genetic pre-disposition to heart disease...swell...so nothing new to report there.
Obviously, we're glad there is nothing wrong with me, but it would have been nice to hear, "Oh, here is the problem...Pop some baby aspirin and you'll be all good next time."
Regardless of what anyone says, I will always wonder if I did something wrong to cause this. And, without something to pinpoint the problem, I will carry this fear that it might happen again. And, yes, fear is going to hold me back. I know, "a life half-lived" and all that jazz.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Congrats....
...to all of our friends who will be having Happy June Babies. Good for you. This really is a DAILY struggle. Do we even WANT another baby?
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
What's in a name?
I just received the "book" my doctor's office sent me last week after multiple phone calls requesting information. It was actually an eight-page pamphlet. My favorite part was the glossary, which had an entry for "repeated miscarriage." Apparently, it is also called "habitual abortion". Wow.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
It's raining in my cube again
Mental note---Start wearing waterproof mascara. We're still waiting on test results from the fetal sample...I'm tired of being angry girl...I'm crying uncontrollably and unpredictably...again.
I just spent an hour hiding in someone's cube because my cube neighbor brought in his new baby and I wanted to avoid the "So when are you having another baby?" conversation. I'm thinking of marketing a button line. The first one will be "When I choose to procreate is none of your business." Put your orders in now.
Last night, I told Hub that no matter what the results are, we are just going to keep trying until we have another baby. At this point, it is the only thing that will "fix" what is broken inside of me. I can't go through all of this pain and then not end up with the baby. As gently as he could, he pointed out that we may get a result that leads us to say, you know, we have a child and we need to just accept that we won't have another.
I just spent an hour hiding in someone's cube because my cube neighbor brought in his new baby and I wanted to avoid the "So when are you having another baby?" conversation. I'm thinking of marketing a button line. The first one will be "When I choose to procreate is none of your business." Put your orders in now.
Last night, I told Hub that no matter what the results are, we are just going to keep trying until we have another baby. At this point, it is the only thing that will "fix" what is broken inside of me. I can't go through all of this pain and then not end up with the baby. As gently as he could, he pointed out that we may get a result that leads us to say, you know, we have a child and we need to just accept that we won't have another.
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