The cruelest thing

The cruelest thing I do to myself these days is plainly say: “I was pregnant, but now quite simply I’m not.”  The voice in my head says it in quite the matter-of-fact get over it sort of tone.  Of course I have to get over it, but I’m in a mire with no way out and no one to help me.

I feel fortunate to have several support venues on my side.  My “December Darlings” for one.  The first person I called freaking out about what was happening to my body is from that group.  She has since called me a few times to check on me.  She knows what it’s like to miscarry.  And I regret how unfazed I must have seemed about her own experiences with miscarriage.  Makes me sick to think about it.

ICAN members have already given their support even though I’m new to that group.  Their acceptance of me has meant a lot, and I’m sure I can learn much about how to move forward from them.  Anyone who has miscarried should also visit the MotheringDotCommune forums.  These women’s stories are amazing and my heart goes out to each and every one of them.

My poor friends and family members.  They hardly know what to say.  It’s understandable – I think it’s easier, perhaps, to comfort people you only know via the internet.  There’s less at stake, perhaps.  I haven’t made all of the calls yet, and luckily I hadn’t let many people know, so there are only a few people to tell.  E-mailing this sort of news is awful, but I don’t think I can bear to call my close friends and retell my story.  I hope they’ll understand.

And bless my husband.  He’s so disappointed and so worried about me.  I just can’t be strong around him . . . I need to be a mess for a while.  I’m sure he understands, but I hate what I’m putting him through, and I know he hates that he can’t fully understand and participate in my grieving process.  I love him so much and hope that we can find our happy place again soon.  Thank GOD for our daughter.  She is my saving grace.


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