It’s ok not to be ok

Today I would be 20 weeks pregnant and I’m not ashamed to say that I’m struggling a little bit this week. 

One of the first things I did after we got the call from the clinic to say our beta test was positive was to excitedly download a pregnancy app. The app had a calendar function amongst other things, which was basically a countdown of the 40 weeks to your due date. In my elation I happily added significant dates to the diary, and now exactly how far along I would be, should be, is burned into my memory and I can’t ignore it. 

So, as each date comes and goes it makes it hurt. On our second wedding anniversary I would have been 12 weeks, a huge milestone in any pregnancy, on my birthday I would have been 15 weeks, and today, the 10th anniversary of our first date, I would, should, be 20 weeks. But I’m not. The baby has now been gone for more weeks than it was ever here and today is a cruel reminder of that fact.

It’s not all been darkness and gloom since we found out that we had lost the baby, there has been a lot of light and laughter and on the whole I think we are both doing very well with getting on with life, with moving forward. But there are still down days that take me by surprise.

Sometimes emotions hit you one after the other in quick succession without letting you up for air, sometimes it’s all at once with such brutality you are amazed you are still standing, and sometimes there are days and weeks where you feel like a perfectly normal and functioning human being until bang, there you are uncontrollably crying again at your desk, hiding in the loo, crying in the car, or in queue at the supermarket. It can feel like guilt, grief, anger, frustration, helplessness, or just plain sadness and it will usually come without any warning.  

I still have used tissues in my handbag that the nurse gave me the day we found out the baby had gone. I carry the seven-week scan picture with me in my diary. There is an empty packet of ginger biscuits in my desk drawer at work, a pointless reminder of the nausea that once ruled my days. I can’t bring myself to throw away any of these things even though they bring with them a sadistic kind of comfort I could probably do without. 

I’m not even sure why I’m telling you all this really. Today I don’t feel there is a magic wand I can wave to make these feelings of loss and sadness go away. No self love exercise I can do to focus my attention, just a dull ache which I can’t ignore. I guess I just wanted to share this to say it’s ok not to be ok, that we don’t need to put on a smiley, happy face on days like today. And that above all else there is no such thing as getting over a miscarriage, you can only survive it and learn to live your life hoping it will hurt a little bit less as time goes on. And it will, I promise.

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