Wednesday, January 29, 2014
When we went back on Monday, I tried to be positive, I tried to truly believe that God has a plan for our family. When we say the ultrasound, and no resulting heartbeat, I crashed, I shut down and cried. My new doctor couldn't have been better, but I kept feeling, he truly doesn't understand, no one, unless you gave been through this, truly understands.
We've been trying to schedule the follow up surgery for what seems like an eternity. Encountering small, 24 hr delay problems after another. To them it is a procedure on paper, to me it is my way to fully say goodbye to my baby. My body doesn't know the baby isn't viable, I am still nauseous, tired and overly hormonal, it is like a cruel joke.
I feel like my heart is broken in two, I feel like my body can't do what it is supposed to do, I feel a full wave of emotions that takes me back to January 2009, and December 2010, when other heartbeats weren't detected.
I cope with grief in my own way, I can't talk about it, but writing is some sort of consolation for me. We have a stronger support system here than before, and I know they feel I am shutting them out, I am not, and I am so glad they are in our lives.
I know we are lucky to have 3 happy, healthy children. One of which is telling anyone who will listen about the baby in mummy's belly that died. They don't know about the other losses, andthey didn't know I was even pregnant, but the resulting emotions are too much to hide from an inquisitive 6 year old, we cuddle, we share and she cries, saying she is sad she isn't going to have another baby sister. (Funny how she convinced herself it was a girl, partly, probably because her baby brother is such a proper little brother).
This week, we process through the stages of grief, denial: i forced myself into a follow up ultrasound yesterday, in case my doctor was wrong. I got angry at those mothers who still drink, or do drugs or surprisingly got pregnant and don't even know who the father is, or that are making a choice like on teen mom last night to end an unplanned pregnancy, or complain that their baby is due on their birthday and their life will forever be about that baby, or, to be brutally honest, those that haven't had to go through this even once, not to mention three times.
We will make it through this, I know I am stronger than I think I am, and I know we will have another baby, when the time is right. But for right now, it is ok to grieve, to turn out the world between 8-5 when the kids are in school, and cry. And after they are asleep, to silently cry for our loss. Cry for the dream that was crushed, cry for my broken heart and just.simply.cry.