Six years ago today I was laying in the bedroom floor in agonizing pain. Knowing something was terribly wrong, but not sure what exactly it was. The pain was so intense I was sorely tempted to have QS drive me to the ER.
I laid there, wrapped in a ball, him sitting in the floor next to me, for several hours. I cried, gasped, prayed for death. The cramps and the pain wouldn't stop. Finally, hours later, the pain started to dissipate. Weak and completely exhausted, I walked downstairs to use the restroom.
And it passed.
That's when it dawned on me what had happened. I sat there staring at the remains in disbelief and shock. *That's* what that pain was all about. Did I really just loose it? Were my eyes deceiving me? No, it was really there. Laying in the palm of my hand.
What do I do with it? Do I bury it? It's so tiny. People will think I'm stupid. You can't even see the outline of a baby. It's just a blob. But it's my blob. My little being. Who cares what people think. But nobody knew you were pregnant. You weren't even sure yourself till two days ago. And where are you going to bury it?
A million thoughts swirled thru my head. I was already exhausted. This added another layer to the mess. Feeling completely overwhelmed, I flushed it. As soon as I did, I felt horror. Why did I do that??? But what else could I do. People would think I was over-reacting.
Numbly I trudged back up the stairs and fell into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
The following morning I called my OB searching for answers. Validation of what I'd just gone thru. She brushed me off. Told me it was nothing, just a really bad, really strange period. I hung up the phone, feeling confused, belittled, and terribly alone.
I remember nothing else about that day. It's the following evening that is most vivid to me.
We were getting ready for church. By then, I had this surge of emotion, a drop in hormones, I don't know what you call it, but I was tanking. Badly. My husband was getting in the shower and I sat on the bed crying. He snapped at me. Said he didn't know what the big deal was. It happened, there was nothing I could do, could we get ready now before we're late? I felt completely, completely alone.
From that point on, I stuffed my pain. When it would flare up, it would be shoved aside. I didn't let anyone see the hurt. Didn't talk about it. Didn't show it. Then I found myself on SI and someone picked and pulled that scab back. Oh what an infection laid beneath that scab.
I've been cleaning, medicating, and tending to that infection. And it's healing beautifully. It hasn't been pretty. It hasn't been easy. But it's happening.
Today is 6 years from that terrible day. And I'm ok. It happened. I will never forget. I will always wonder what our baby would have looked like. If it would have been a blonde or a brunette. If it would have looked more like QS, me, or a perfect blend of us both like our other two children. I wonder what its personality would be like. Would it be like either of our children, or completely different. I'll never know. But it's ok.
There is an Angel Baby waiting for me in heaven. When I pass from this life, there is someone there, waiting to meet me.
A friend told me this morning that October 15th is Miscarriage and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. How strange, yet comforting that on October 8th, I lost a child, and one year later on October 15th, I was blessed with my son. He's my reminder that there is joy after suffering.
Please excuse the Pollyanna in me today.
Peace and love to you all.
[This message edited by Aubrie84 at 9:51 AM, October 8th (Tuesday)]