miscarriage in ultrasound roomIt’s been two weeks since we found out you were gone. Two weeks since that fateful day in the ultrasound room. I almost can’t believe how fast the time has gone by. It even seems as if some family and friends think I should be done grieving at this point. So few still check on me.

It’s been a particularly rough day. Hubby worked swings today and didn’t spend any time with me this morning. He said he wasn’t feeling well but it’s pretty typical for him to sleep until he has to go to work when he is not working day shift.

I just cried and cried as he was leaving. I didn’t want him to go to work. I hadn’t wanted him to work all week. He said he didn’t want to leave me while I was crying. I mustered up the courage to stop while he was still in the house. I didn’t want him to be late, even though I wanted him to stay. Even if I had cried and cried like I did after he left, eventually, he would have left for work.

Literally, as soon as the front door closed, I laid down on the floor in our bedroom and wept. I wept so loudly that Timmy left the room. I must have scared him. I wasn’t just weeping because I lost our baby, I was also distraught because I was purging baby items. I had spent all morning sifting through baby clothes and toys. Clothes and toys that I set aside specifically for this new baby.

Being enveloped within this baby world, my mind couldn’t handle it. I wanted the new baby to play with these toys and to wear some of these clothes. Instead, I was folding them, sorting them into piles, and packing the ones that made the cut away. As I put some in the “save bin,” I wondered what I would be saving them for. It is unlikely that we will try again. It is unlikely that we will have another baby.  But the clothes I did save, had significance. They were worn by both my boys and had memories attached to them. Someday, I will look at them again and remember how tiny they once were.

After ten minutes of bawling in my bedroom, I called down to Timmy. I could hear him coming up the stairs. “Mommy done crying?” he asked. He kept repeating it as he climbed up the stairs. “Mommy done crying?” I wanted to start crying just because of that question.

As he arrived in the room, he came towards me and asked again while looking intently in my eyes, “Mommy all done crying?”

“Yes,” I said. “Will you please give me a hug, mommy really needs one right now.” He leaned in and hugged me but quickly moved away, focused on some links and rattles that I was trying to donate.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful although I could feel my insides wanting to burst again. I just couldn’t. Timmy didn’t want to be around me while I was crying and that hurt worse than the crying. I tried to talk to hubby through text messages about what I had been struggling with. We seemed to work some things out but it hurt deeply.

I still hurt over the fact that he left me at home alone while he worked. I still hurt over him trying to go back to work so quickly. I still hurt that he seemed so focused on work and I knew that if one of our living children had passed away, things would be different. He would be home.

I relayed those feelings to him and he tried to explain. When he said why he returned to work last week, it stung my heart. He wanted to go back. It was his way of coping. He needed to talk with other people. I get that and I am glad it was his way of coping, but it still hurt, because I was struggling so much.

With friends and family passing along that I should be moving on by now, his interest in work and leaving me alone at home compounds that pain. It’s still too early for me to “move on.” I wish people really understood there was no “moving on.” It’s about moving forward and I will, just not yet. Maybe after the baby is buried? Maybe after the commendation ceremony?

I promise I will get there. I know I will but there is no timeline on grief. A friend of mine who DID check on me today was struggling with how she felt she needed to be for me. I told her that it was not her responsibility to hold me up. She wanted to take my pain away. So many people want to take my pain away and when I help families through loss, I too, want to take their pain away. But I can’t. She can’t take my pain away.

The grief has to be felt. There is no way around it. If there was a way around it, then there was no love or desire for the child that I was carrying. All that can be done is to support me in that grief, through meals, cleaning, listening, taking care of the kids, taking care of other household duties, etc. Anyone who is experiencing pregnancy or child loss wants the pain to go away but it takes time to muddle through that pain and understand, we have to feel the grief.

The evening ended with a meal from a friend. The only friend I have shed tears in front of. We really aren’t that close but we have some things in common and our boys used to look so much alike it was scary. I found it odd that I shed tears in front of her. Maybe my hormones were off?

I settled in for the evening after cleaning up my kitchen and sterilizing all Timmy’s bottles and pump parts. I thought about how amazing it was that I was still pumping for him. He is the love of my life right now and brings a smile to my face every day. I am so happy to provide this milk for him. I remember that I still have placenta pills in my freezer. I pop one of those in and pray I feel better tomorrow.

– Breaking the silence of First Trimester Miscarriage