Milestones of miscarriage: afraid to try again

You can read from the start here

We’ve had time off from trying. After 2 miscarriages so close together we were advised to take a couple of months off to give my body time to heal. But as the time ticks by, I feel more and more scared at the prospect of trying again. My 2 little babies have been on my mind a lot lately. I miss them. I feel so empty. I keep trying so hard to fix myself but there is a gaping whole in my heart and womb. I feel like a shell that is fragile and cracked.

Anything that has made me anxious lately has become overwhelming and too much to bear. My husband has a list of topics that he avoids because he knows they will just induce a panic attack. I have to be careful about the things I say yes to because I know I need to take care of myself right now. Stressful situations leave me both physically and mentally ill. I’m on the edge. I’m vulnerable. Life is hard. Life is scary. But life goes on. Each morning I wake up and resolve to work on feeling mentally well. I decide to go out and see my friends and find reasons to smile.

But it is all so much effort. What I’d really like to do is stay in bed all day long and eat donuts. Lots of donuts. I want to hide from the decisions we are facing.

Are we brave enough to try again? Am I strong enough to weather another storm should it turn out that way? What if we don’t fall pregnant again? What if I lose another baby? God, I can barely even write that thought. It makes my chest hurt.

But what’s the alternative? Life has to go on. The days will keep ticking by whether I like it or not. So if we don’t try again there has to be an alternative. And that alternative is that we aren’t trying again. No sibling for Boo. More periods to remind me that I’m not pregnant. You see, either way, it’s painful.

It’s funny, when I’ve been speaking to people lately I tend to speak in absolutes. We are doing this. These are the choices we have made. Only thing is, each time I have the conversation the answer changes. People must think I’m crazy. And I guess I am a little bit. But speaking in black and white is strangely reassuring. I get to feel what that decision actually feels like. The trouble is, I still can’t decide. Because I’m still scared. And that’s the core of the issue. I’m just really scared.

Time to put my big girl pants on. Tomorrow maybe.

Next: A different kind of birth story


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