When life gets hard, I tend to do one of two things (after the obvious talk with my awesome husband who listens to me re count the day after we've put the kids to bed) to hash it out and get over it sooner so that I can move on with my life and never revisit it again. Option 1: private journal entry. I have kept journals since forever. I used to write in them every day and once marriage and kids happened I started writing fewer entries, sometimes skipping years at a time. I don't just write about the tough stuff, the things that I'm struggling with or my thoughts. I write about events that have taken place, small details about a day that I know I'll forget. Like my children's birth stories. I wrote those stories down as soon as I got home from the hospital and had a moment to put pen to paper. I knew that I'd forget small things about those foggy days in the hospital. That it would turn into a whirlwind of emotion and I'd get to busy to look back and try to remember what happened. Option 2: Text bomb my best friend about what I'm going through. It probably gets overwhelming on her as well, as it usually comes out of no where and my texts turn into huge paragraphs. On the rare occasion do I hold it in and just sweep it under the rug. I turn into an emotionally unbalanced wreck if that happens. Only 4 people (including the husband) know what I've been keeping. I've journaled it, stopping mid sentence because I can't quite find the right words to express what I'm feeling other than sadness. I've text bombed my best friend who only could say sorry (which seems weird since its not her fault). I've confined in my husband who tried his best to help me through it. To remind me of our two beautiful and healthy kids. But then it happens. It happens when I'm at the store and happen to see baby clothes, it happens when I hear another birth announcement for a spring baby, it happens when I see a pregnant belly. Only a couple times has it gotten the best of me and I actually let tears slip past. Saying the words out loud is still unbelievable to me. That it actually happened. And I keep going back and forth on whether or not to even say anything. It's not going to change anything. It won't make me feel better. If anything it will make me feel worse. But acknowledging that there was a tiny being there. They existed for 5 weeks. They were mine. Systems were forming, a heart was about to start pumping. Science says it's nothing, that technically it wasn't a baby. But I know that had this NOT happened I'd be 19 weeks. I'd be due mid March. The kids would be getting a sibling, we'd know the gender by now. My heart breaks that none of that is happening. I wish I had a picture. Something physical to hold on to. All I have is a memory. A nightmare of being out in public with my daughter and knowing that something is wrong and rushing home to panic and google. Realizing what is happening. How to function for the rest of the day knowing what your body is doing. Remembering to act normal so the kids can see your fine. Nothing is wrong. Inside, I'm a mess. Don't get me wrong, I am elated for all the women I know that are expecting at this very moment. But there is a very small part of me that doesn't know how to feel. And I supposed it will never know, I'll never know what to feel. Scientifically its an early pregnancy loss. Apparently women have them all the time and most don't even realize it. But I realized it. I KNEW what was happening before I even knew I was pregnant. And I know that I shouldn't feel stupid or dumb for being sad or angry. I do know that I'll never ever forget. I do know that I am blessed with 2 amazing characters who I love so much. And after writing this, I do feel a smidgen better. I feel hopeful and blessed. I feel grateful.
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