Then came this odd month of wondering and disappointment.
Only one line.
Then the type of “good” nauseau that means something’s changed.
I told myself to wait it out, just let nature tell me either way.
Once I get something in my head, though, I obsess over it.
I couldn’t resist just one more test.
Two lines.
Celebration.
So, the planning, hoping, and waiting began.
My hand reached at will to secretly touch my belly,
imagining what soon would be.
We talked names.
I called my mother.
A new eagerness, excitement, and joy overcame me.
But it only lasted a day.
When the blood came the next morning, I rushed to buy another test.
Positive.
Relief.
But it worried me.
I called a friend.
Reassurance.
I told myself it would be okay until
it became something more the next day.
Dread.
Fear.
The hated waiting and secretly hoping, but trying to prepare for the worst.
Helplessness.
After a long night of wanting to deny what was happening,
I asked my husband to stay with me the next day.
He took care of everything and everyone.
A call to the doctor and a blood test.
Reality set in.
I try not to beat myself up, because I think if I’d only been patient,
Rationally, I know this is nature’s way of addressing something that’s not quite right.
I know I have two – one of each – to love and raise.
I know others have tried for even one and are still hoping and waiting.
I know we can try again.
I know it happened early, so that should somehow make it feel better.
I know difficult experiences make us stronger.
But the part of me that is grieving, suffering a loss, internalizing this
feels incredibly
fragile.
No matter what I rationally tell myself,
I wanted this. I was already invested.
Already in love.
I can see that deep, dark hole of depression.
I’m only touching it and I don’t think the stay will be permanent,
but it aches to even come near it again.
The next day, a friend took my little ones.
I got out of the house.
I had more of my hair cut off then intended.
It felt good to control something.
I think to tell people what I’m going through,
in case the tears come unexpectedly,
or my mood turns dark,
or I don’t want to talk.
But I can hardly form the word in my head, let alone say it out loud.
Some will say I’m crazy to put this here so publicly.
But a part of me feels like I’d rather people just knew.
Then we don’t have to talk about it.
I don’t need to explain.
But what’s clearly there will be understood.
From someone who has been there ~ Know that I’m thinking about you and your family and sending prayers for peace. Time takes the edge off, but right now … it hurts. Bad. I’m so sorry for the loss of your sweet baby!
I wish there were eloquent words to say what I want to say, but there aren’t. I’m sorry.
Wow, Mindy. Such powerful writing, thank you for sharing. I feel for your loss and I hope that you will recover soon. Sending happy thoughts your way!
Sending you love & light.
Now I have to wipe my eyes 🙂
xoxox
I’m SO sorry for what you are going through. I know, no words can help your hurt so I will just keep you in my thoughts. Hang in there, hun!
_________()____________
These lines above are my virtual arms reaching out to give you a big hug across the blogosphere. I hope the healing has begun and will continue. Thanks for your thoughtful poem. Read Psalms 30:5 when you get a chance. 🙂
That was a beautiful beautiful beautiful post.
I know your pain. I get it. And I am so glad you are sharing. I am glad because… you are letting someone else know that it is okay to grieve….. and okay to share…
Your heart is so precious.
I’m so sorry Mindy! My thoughts are with you and your family at this time!
Mindy, I know there isn’t anything I can say to make this better for you. I’m sorry you have to go through this. I know exactly how you’re feeling (I would have NEVER been able to put it into such amazing words, as you have done). I remember all the “what if’s” taking over my thoughts. I worried that although I already had a child, “what if” I couldn’t have another? It’s a natural thing to have grieve and have worries. Hang in there Mindy, I wish I lived closer to help out. You’ll be in my thoughts and prayers. And thank you for your writing and honesty!
I’m so sorry for your very real loss. I think it’s therapeutic to write it out like that and let others know of your feelings. It won’t take it away but it’s good to let yourself grieve. (((hugs)))
Mindy,
I agree that it’s therapeutic to write about things like this. I’m giving you a standing ovation. I’m also giving you a shout out at my place today. I adore you & your blog.
You remain in my thoughts & prayers. I’m only a phone call or an email away.
Thank you for sharing this. Your speaking out may help others who are lost.
Thank you for writing this, as I didn’t have the courage to write it on my blog when it happened to me this past Sept.
I am very sorry for your loss and know your pain. It does get easier to cope, but the questions will always remain as to WHY.
Although your questions may never be answered, just know there MUST be a reason for all of this.
If you want to talk about it some more you have my email. My situation was almost identical to yours.
Mindy,
I can’t get over your amazing way to make soemthing so tragic sound so peaceful and reassuring. I’m sorry to hear about your experience and I hope that this will be the only one. I feel your pain as we were trying to have #2, we went through a year of fertility treatment with nothing working. Each month extreme hope followed by extreme disappointment. We finally stopped all treatments and ended up pregnant on our own. We are anxiously awaiting the arrival of #2 and know that it is a true blessing. Hang in there. Feel free to call anytime.
M
So sorry you experienced this Mindy. It is never easy to experience loss even if that person was only in your life (or womb) a short time. Hugs to you my friend. Hang in there!
This was so beautifully written. I am so sorry, and I hope that this has helped you to take a step towards healing. Many hugs are being sent to you virtually right now. Much love.
I stopped by from Erin’s site.
You are a brave lady. I can’t possibly know how you feel, but I’m so sorry for what you are going through. Hang in there. Let time take the edge of the pain, though I know it never really goes away.
***Ally
I am so sorry Mindy. I hope the warming weather can help your mind enjoy other things. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.
I am so sorry Mindy. The tears are flowing as I write this. I know EXACTLY the pain you are feeling right now. It was very helpful for me to write about my experience on my blog as well. If you want a good book to read I know that Gone To Soon was helpful for me when we lost our baby. I hope you feel better soon.
Oh, wow Mindy. I’m so sorry. So many things I’d like to say, but I’m not sure how to. Sending you my prayers and all the hugs I can.
Mindy-loo!
Wow, you are amazing to share and uplift others!
I am sorry. As one who has been in this position I understand how you are feeling.
I want to tell you that this will never happen again, but I can’t do that either. I had 3 during all my stint in childbearing. BUT I have 6 beautiful children to take care of and love now. I don’t know if I will get the opportunity to take care of those amazing spirits one day, or if they just had to try again a little later, but I do know I have been entrusted with the spirits I am suposed to have!
I pray Heavenly Father will comfort you and you will feel peace! Love ya!
Wow.
That was really powerful and beautiful all at the same time.
I agree that readers embrace the honesty no matter how hard it is to write.