Milestones of miscarriage: being caught off guard 

I’ve come to a point where the miscarriages aren’t at the front of my mind all day everyday. There is a sadness and emptiness there, but it does not race through my thoughts. I’ve come to a quiet acceptance of the situation: I am not pregnant.

I actually talk about it quite openly and frankly. It makes it feel less overwhelming to just talk about it factually without any social awkwardness. I had 2 miscarriages. They were hard physically and mentally. It’s been a tough time. Acknowledging this has helped calm my mind and meant that I’ve felt able to get back to some normality.
It’s great. I can be there for my daughter. I can be happy and have fun. One of the hardest things, was seeing how my daughter was missing me and worried about me when I was so withdrawn because of the miscarriages. Being there fore her, playing crafting, cooking … it makes every day happy. I don’t feel in the depth of despair and sadness. My life looks like it is all carrying on as normal. For those who don’t know, there is nothing to indicate what has just happened. And whilst I am happy to talk about the miscarriages, they do not dominate every conversation like they did a few weeks ago. There is other stuff happening in my life.

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I was scrolling through my phone the other day and was confronted by this picture. The picture I sent to some friends. The outfit we got Boo. It sent a rush of sadness over me that left me in tears.

Then I get caught off guard. Someone asks if I’m feeling sick because they didn’t know I’d lost the baby. I see a cute onesie and consider buying it before remembering I no longer need it. I get a push notification congratulating me for entering the next week of pregnancy (seriously, why can’t I bring myself to turn these notifications off? Why haven’t I deleted the app?). I think about Christmas then realise we will still be a family of 3 not 4 as we had thought.

It feel crushed. Limp. Feeble.

Being caught off guard makes me feel like a balloon that’s being deflated. Quickly turning from buoyant and bubbly to a flopped over mess on the floor. Empty. Totally empty. Situation vacant. Space unoccupied. Barren. Deserted.

See the truth is, even though I totally accept the facts, they still hurt. I still feel the emotional pain; it’s just been compartmentalised to ease day to day activities. It’s still there lurking, not very well hidden.

Some people have said this feeling will stay until I have my baby in my arms. This terrifies me; it puts so much pressure on actually becoming pregnant and maintaining that pregnancy for nine months. Will this lurker remain at the back of my consciousness as we try again, as we wait to test, as we wait for scans? As we wait for 9 fricken months? God. Terrifying. No wonder I still feel awful when I get caught off guard. It’s not the past but the future that is weighing heavily on my mind.
There is nothing I can do to change what happened. I don’t know what might happen in the future. I need to learn to trust my body again and find some way to make peace with the situation because I can’t bear the thought of feeling like this throughout my next pregnancy. I think I might need to talk this through with someone, maybe my gp, before we even consider trying again.

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