loss

This list is for those women who are recovering from miscarriage (or serious hemorrhage as a result) – and possibly more importantly, it’s for their partners and loved ones.

This month has felt like a roller coaster in some ways and I can honestly say that I would not have emerged as healthily as I have without the encouragement of my friends and family.

My story, Miscarriage and an Unexpected Turn of Events.

I have simply listed what I felt – and I have decided to categorize it all as normal. I do want to say regarding the “Guilt – was it my fault?” entry, don’t worry about reassuring me. Technically, I know it probably wasn’t my fault but those feelings are a natural and probably necessary part of the grieving process.

These are just some of the things I’m moving through or have already passed.

Recovering from Miscarriage, One Month Later. 

I hope this is a help for those of you who are going through this. I will not minimize your pain by trying to make it ok. It isn’t ok. But, know you are not alone and even if I don’t know your name, I am saying a prayer for your healing even as I write these words.

Blessings…Monna

Emotional

Numb – at first. Too exhausted to even think of what had happened.

Fear – about the actual miscarriage. For about a week, I had bad dreams and had a hard time not thinking about it. Remembering stuff I’d forgotten like

• being on oxygen from the time I was in the ambulance until after my D&C
• discovering I’d been categorized in “Critical” condition & figuring out – it’s not good.

Fear that I will get pregnant again and that I’ll lose the baby or go through a scary miscarriage again (highly unlikely).

Fear that I won’t be able to get pregnant again (because I do want more children – Whoa. Did I just say, child-ren?)

Guilt that maybe I did something to cause this. My reasonable side knows it may be impossible to prove exactly what happened – which is why doctors and midwives always say, “There’s nothing you could have done to cause or prevent this.”

But, my mom’s guilt kicks in anyway and I check the laundry list of everything I’d eaten, done, how much sleep I’d gotten and possible incidents of bad karma. I know I will probably never know if it was just genetic or something else. I’m convinced this is a natural part of grieving a baby lost in utero.

A return to reason – We mothers are programmed to protect our young and being unable to do that with an unseen child is an excruciating experience. Thankfully, I remembered that babies are born to moms with poor nutrition and even moms on crack. Women who have nothing close to the nutrition and healthy lifestyle I’m fortunate enough to have carry babies to term.

In the end I trust that, for some reason, this baby was not meant to be here now. I don’t like it but I have faith that it is true.

Guilt that I’d always hoped I would never be a part of the group of women who have lost a baby. I always grieved with friends and even acquaintances who went through a miscarriage and then secretly prayed, “Please, not one of mine.”

Bursts of grief at odd times, like when I –

• realize there are certain foods I can now eat that I couldn’t eat just a few weeks ago because I was pregnant
• see pics of newborn babies on friends’ facebook pages or meeting pregnant women in the grocery store
• recalculate what I’ll be able to do this summer and fall because I won’t be completing a pregnancy and taking care of a newborn
• read the children’s books to my girls that we read before bedtime the night of the miscarriage

Anger about random, unimportant stuff – such as a nasty coffee drink and wi-fi not working at a coffee shop I visited. So not my normal tendency.

Anger – This is kind of embarrassing but I felt this way toward people who didn’t realize how serious my miscarriage was (this is completely unfair but who says the grieving process is rational?). Or who minimized the experience with comments like, “Well, it’s over. Now you can move on with your life.” Jerk. Or people who asked “How are you?” but didn’t want to hear the truth. Part of me wanted to shock them with a blatantly honest answer. I didn’t.

Control freak-ishness. I don’t think this is in the list of typical stages of grief but I believe this is my way of compensating for not having control over what happened to me and my baby. So, I tried to control everything my little world. For instance, I hyper-cleaned or got frustrated with the kids if they didn’t do exactly what I asked within say, oh – 2 seconds of my thinking it. Yeah, that’s reasonable.

Gratitude – for my sweet husband, daughters, family and friends I was surrounded with during the weeks following my miscarriage.

Feeling abandoned. Life goes back to normal for everyone else – even a loving, supportive husband who has to return to work – but seemed to stand still for me for a while. People stop calling or asking about the baby (very normal) and it feels like they have forgotten.

Depression. As I was recovering mentally from how scary my miscarriage was and as I began to feel the loss of the hopes and expectations of greeting a new baby, I felt dark, listless and grief stricken. Like my life was over. This stage did not last long for me because I woke up one morning and decided that despite the circumstances and the loss we endured – I am lucky to be alive! While I still have moments (and probably will for a while) when I feel sad or cry unexpectedly, I choose not to dwell in the darkness.

Recovering Physically from Miscarriage & Hemorrhage

The loss of a child is so painful and often isolating. I share my story in the hope that it will make you feel less alone. Please pass it on if you know of someone who it might encourage.

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