Wednesday, 8 January 2014

Oh January.

I love January, because it's the start of a new year. And there's something about a new year that makes me think of the first crisp page in a new novel.

However, this week last year was my last miscarriage. It's kind of tainted January for me. Not because I hold it against January, per se, but because it makes me sad to remember.

I never knew how much I could love and want something that I didn't know. Something I had never met, I had never touched, I had never smelled or kissed... but it hurt as though I had loved and kissed it all my life.

But I never knew. I have PCOS, so periods being delayed, being subjected to a barrage of pregnancy like symptoms, your body doing weird things were all normal to me. So I didn't think anything of it when things were a little off, and I certainly wasn't expecting to get pregnant - we were waiting to get into a new specialist because mine had left the practice. We weren't trying at all. So it was the furthest thing from my mind. Until I had routine bloodwork, and my GP called and asked me to go have more. Then he called me into the office to tell me I had been pregnant (barely pregnant, he'd said -how can someone be barely pregnant? You either are, or you aren't) and miscarried. It was really early, he'd said, under or just 5 weeks. He told me to wait out the bleeding, and then come back to see him to make sure everything's ok.

I rode the train back to work, and continued on with my day - because I didn't know what else to do. My initial thought was "Oh well" and I got through my day feeling only a little bit off. I wasn't going to go there, I told myself. I wasn't going to think about the "could have been's". But then, on the train ride home, I saw a woman with a little wee baby. It hit me then that I was losing that. That a real, live baby had been inside me - even if I hadn't known. A real live child created out of the love my husband and I share. A little piece of my husband... and it was leaving me. It wasn't just an embryo. It was our embryo. Our baby, and I was losing it. I wanted it so badly. I felt we had tried for long enough, we'd fought long enough, I really, really wanted that baby. Ugh. It was very hard.

2012 had been a really long and emotional year - filled with obstacles of the fertility kind (two losses, one surgery and the loss of my ovary). I ended 2012 in a really bad place, and just wanted 2013 to arrive and give us a chance to start over. When my year started with my third loss, I was devastated. I felt like my dreams of motherhood died with the loss of that pregnancy. It was all wrong.

Thankfully, the year improved and it wasn't as bad as 2012 - but I am still struggling with the fear of miscarriage, and how it's tainted my idea of fertility, pregnancy and motherhood. It's strange how something so very small can change everything.

3 comments:

  1. I know how you feel. We have 4 kids in heaven...2 I've held in my arms, one I saw with a beating heart once and one we lost very, very early. Each of my kids, regardless of age at death, has impacted me and is held extremely close to my heart.

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  2. Your post is so very spot on. Hugs.

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  3. I'm so sorry for all that's happened to you. Unfortunately that fear of miscarriage will probably stick with you for awhile. But I know you won't let it stop you. You'll face your fear as best you can. And even though you won't forget that fear, someday when you're holding your child, you'll know it was worth facing the fear. Hugs.

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