Every time I sit down to write about something that has happened recently I look at my post list and it weighs on me. It weighs on me to have had another loss, to have this stupid unpublished draft.
This post is very personal and probably will not make you laugh. I know what you're thinking, "Well if she isn't even going to try and make me laugh then I am out of here." Honestly, I can't say that I blame you! But if I don't do this post, lift this weight, I am afraid that I will just stay stuck in this stupid place.
When I had my first miscarriage in May of 2011 I was almost 11 weeks pregnant when we found out that the baby had stopping growing. We had told all of our friends and family that we were expecting and undoing that news was very, very hard. When it was over and we had begun to heal I told Matt that I did not regret telling everyone in the end, because we had not suffered alone.
As I mentioned in my last post this most recent miscarriage happened before I was very far along and we had really only had time to tell a few people. As I suspected, telling our families that we had had a miscarriage before they even knew that we were expecting, totally sucked. I sincerely apologize to anyone reading this post and hearing this news for the first time.
In some ways this loss was easier. I didn't have to have surgery (twice), we didn't have to go through the agony of knowing that the baby's tiny heart had stopped beating, and I didn't spend 9 weeks with my head in the toilet. (Don't get me wrong, I will suffer through months of morning sickness if I get a healthy baby at the end, but holy wow was that a kick in the shin last time.)
It took me a long time to reconcile in my heart what had happened when I lost the baby in 2011. Simply stated, miscarriages are tragedies beyond my comprehension. As a scientist I understand their biological importance and I am able to feel gratitude that I was not faced with an alternate, impossibly hard, reality. That doesn't make them fair. When I had my first miscarriage I was disappointed, and scared that there was something wrong with me. Knowing just how common losses are has helped to quiet those demons. This time around I obviously felt disappointed, we were hoping for another spring baby, superficial I know. But I was not scared like last time, I was pissed. Honestly...just really angry. Didn't the universe know, it wasn't my turn?? The morning I knew I was miscarrying I cleaned the entire house for a showing all the while crying angry tears and slamming the vacuum into every wall, chair, and baseboard heater this house has.
A few days later I was feeling physically better but I was still having a hard time letting go of the anger. I still felt pregnant, I still felt a connection to that little spirit. I went for a run along the beach. I don't know what the weather was like, I was too mad to care. I was mad that people wouldn't get out of my way, mad that my right ear bud kept slipping, mad that I had forgotten to shuffle my playlist. I was on the verge of tears and about to turn around and head back to the car when I decided to just stop. Here is the thing, I NEVER quit on a run. If I tell myself I am going to do three miles I do not stop moving until I have done three miles. It is hard for me to even find the words to explain what I was feeling. I sat down on a bench and started talking to the baby's spirit (in my head of course, I haven't completely lost my marbles). I told the baby that I was sad and angry, I thought about how badly we want to add to our family, and I said my goodbyes. But here is the thing (and gets admittedly really weird) I still felt like the baby's spirit was with me. And as soon as I realized I felt that way, and stopped fighting it, I stopped being angry. I stood up, hit shuffle on my playlist, and started running again. The song that started playing, "Feel So Close" by Calvin Harris. It is an upbeat dance song but the lyrics hit me like a truck.
"I feel so close to you right now
It's a force field
I wear my heart upon my sleeve, like a big deal
Your love pours down on me, surrounds me like a waterfall
And there's no stopping us right now
I feel so close to you right now"
I know that this may sound totally crazy, but I am putting it out there anyway. I feel this baby's spirit with me. I didn't feel this way after my first loss but this time has been different. I have no idea what it means and I am completely open to the idea that this "feeling" is nothing more than an elaborate coping mechanism but simply stated, it doesn't matter if I understand it and I certainly cannot ignore it.
I will say that it is pretty fantastic that if I ever want to feel close to that little soul all I have to do is lace up my running shoes.
I feel you baby, all around me. Thank you for helping to heal this broken heart.