Overachiever Syndrome strikes again

You know how fast we want this to be over with, to be back on the road to cycle 5, to feeling better and able to go out into the community and not have your head down just trying to get the basics and go back home without ever acknowledging a soul?

Well, shockingly enough, 1 week post miscarriage I’m not there yet. Not even close. During our holiday, I had multiple panic attacks. Uncontrollable tears. Complete inability to relax. On Monday, I canceled all the things that on paper that would have been healthy – therapist, massage, support group, because I just could not leave the house. It’s Saturday now and I’m better than I was Monday, but I can’t imagine life going back to ‘regular’. As we know in the land of miscarriage, we are never the same having experienced it.

So I’m doing nothing today. I’m just going to inhale and exhale it, tiny breath by breath, and hope the sorrow begins to seep out of my body. I’m going to allow myself to feel it all and if I need to sleep, I’ll sleep. If I need to weep, I’ll weep.

I’m still bleeding, and this Thursday and Friday actually had new persistent cramps. I have never been through this before, so didn’t pay much attention to what, ahem, was being ‘expelled’ during the cramping and contractions and such. Yesterday I spoke to my doc over the phone about it all, and he asked me if I’d “seen tissue” and I was like, hell I was just trying to keep breathing, I wasn’t keeping an eye out for clots and tissue and the like. Oy. Now I am, and yesterday there was a clot, a significant one. Was that it? I can’t stare at this stuff, I just want it done with. I just want to stop the fucking blood. Doc says if I’m still bleeding in a week I need to come in for an ultrasound to make sure it’s all out. All the lining that I built up, the sac, the embryo, everything. So that we can start again.

Cycle Five. Two words I never thought or expected to utter. We don’t have the cash for it, but something told me I need to do this one more time. That’s what you get I suppose for finally getting a BFP, this minute possibility in you that well, maybe next time we’ll get both…the positive test and the positive ultrasounds leading to full term pregnancy and healthy baby. Is that possible? Is that in the cards for us?

During the first week, my husband focused his thoughts he shared with me on how the miscarriage affected me, my pain, my loss. How he couldn’t make it better, how he hurt to see me hurting. He said several times that his pain couldn’t possibly compare to mine, and I had to stop him repeatedly.

There is something so fucked up in our society that makes the mother more important than the father, as a primary caregiver simply because she carried the child in her womb, that somehow this relegates the father to a less deserving spot on the totem pole of parental love. Our society doesn’t allow men to grieve like they do women – and miscarriage is seen as something that happens only to the pregnant mum. And it’s such bullshit. Those of us who’ve gone through this loss know our partners and how they ache. My husband and I talked about this all was we drove back home across the Santiam Pass on Thursday, and finally he articulated his own pain, his own fears. He is struggling with the concept of karma right now when it comes to our loss – that somehow his behaviors of the past somehow taking revenge on him now, stealing our joy because of the wild life he once led when he was younger, telling him he doesn’t deserve to be a father, he doesn’t deserve to have a family.

And it struck me to the core, because I feel that too, that part about what we deserve. And even though we reminded each other that lots of folks who don’t deserve to have kids get knocked up every day, we are not rational when we think of loss in this way. Nothing in my past life I would change because everything led me to this man I share my life with, and no matter what happens in the future, we travel together.



4 thoughts on “Drifting

  1. Sending you both a virtual hug. All those things you mention – massages, therapy -they can wait. Take your time to hide and cry, perfectly natural. I’m really sorry for your loss. Sounds like you’ve got a great, thoughtful and kind man there.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I could not bring myself to leave my house for 3 weeks after my miscarriage, other than a quick stop for necessary things. But even that was a stretch. At one point my husband urged me to take a shower. Even standing up seemed like such a task. No one can understand the loss. Take your time. One day, it won’t be so hard, and it won’t be forced. I would not have believed that when I was in the darkest hours, but it’s true.
    So much love to you.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I hope you can find ways to take it easy on yourself and give yourself as much tlc as possible in this time of loss and uncertainty and grief. So glad you and your husband can be there for each other! Sending you support!


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