Not Allowed

I threw it away.  That's how it started.

***

Everyday while Josh fed the boys breakfast I would get in the shower, listening to inspiring music, hop out, blow dry my hair and then take out my make up bag.  Except putting on my makeup was hard when the contents of that bag would make me cry...

***

I talked to Josh about it. He agreed that I needed to let it go. But knowing it would just end up at the town dump, getting burned with all the other trash was hard.  Finally I made peace with the fact that keeping the pregnancy test didn't mean I got to keep the pregnancy.  That was already gone.

So I took a deep breath one day and took out all the garbage in the house, quickly tucking the First Response Test in its depths before I could change my mind.  The next morning I was able to get ready for the day without crying.  I was glad I had let it go.

The pregnancy test wasn't the only thing that was hard to let go of. I kept my hospital bracelets on for a week after the D&C.  I also had my maternity clothes in my drawers & closet until yesterday when I had finally had enough of looking at them and feeling either empty or angry.

Those items that I could hang onto and tuck into my Pregnancy journal, I kept.  But I put the pregnancy journal up in our closet, out of sight, so I don't have to be blindsided by sadness unexpectedly when I go to pick out a pair of jeans or a sweater.

***

With the physical moving on past the pregnancy, there has also been an emotional moving on.  That has been much harder than the physical.  Putting pregnancy tops in an empty blue tote is fairly easy compared to saying goodbye to a baby you never got to meet.  Tossing out a pregnancy test (hard as it was) is pretty basic, whereas separating emotions like grief, anger, sadness & relief is far more complex.

***

The emotions are likely more challenging because of all the voices 

I have in my head telling me I'm not allowed to feel them:

--I'm not allowed to be sad cause I have three healthy kids.

Wanting a fourth was just plain greedy.

--I'm not allowed to be sad cause there are women who carry a baby for nine months and lose it.

Mine was only ten weeks old.

--I'm not allowed to be sad cause mom's lose children, real beings they have held and loved.

I never even saw my baby's face.

Thankfully I have a husband who helps me talk back to those voices.  That baby was real to you, he says, as I sob hysterically into his chest.  He holds me as I let out all that I held in while I was alone in Anchorage.  He holds me as I grieve and cry and get angry over the unfairness of it all.  

***

I've been listening to Life Ain't Always Beautiful by Gary Allan.

Makes me cry every time.  But sometimes that's just what I need.

Life ain't always beautiful. Sometimes it's just plain hard.

Life can knock you down, it can break your heart.

Life ain't always beautiful.  You think you're on your way.

And it's just a dead end road at the end of the day.

But the struggles make you stronger.  And the changes make you wise.

And happiness has its own way of taking its sweet time.

No life ain't always beautiful. Tears will fall sometimes...

Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride.

Life ain't always beautiful. Some days I miss your smile.

I get tired of walking all these lonely miles.

And I wish for just one minute, I could see your pretty face...

Guess I can dream, but life don't work that way.

But the struggles make me stronger. And the changes make me wise.

And happiness has its own way of taking its sweet time.

No life ain't always beautiful, but I know I'll be fine.

Hey life aint' always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride.

***

Every Feeling

When I met with the chaplain at the hospital in Anchorage, he gave me a soft lavender folder full of resources for women who have lost pregnancies and babies.  I didn't open the packet until a few days after I was home.  But when I did, I was glad that I had.  There was a pamphlet inside that said every feeling was an acceptable feeling to have after a miscarriage.

That little sentence has made the last week a lot easier.  If I feel happy, I let myself feel happy. If I feel sad, I let myself feel sad. It sounds simple, but it was hard at first.

I keep thinking that I am pregnant. I went to eat tuna for the second day in a row, and had to remind myself that I could, because I'm not pregnant anymore.  I had a sore neck the other day and as I reached for the Tylenol, I reminded myself that I could take ibuprofen, since I'm not pregnant anymore.  Some of my life is easier now that I'm not pregnant. Feeling that way makes me feel guilty.  But it's a simple fact. Being pregnant is a lot of work.

In addition to some relief, I have also found myself extraordinarily sad for the boys.  I feel awful that I am not going to give them that baby they want so badly.  You should see them ogle over Daniel Tiger's baby sister Margaret.  They talk about her all.the.time.

I have also been angry.  Angry that I had to go through that alone.  Angry that other people who are less careful have pregnancies that are sustained.  Angry that when I went in for my D&C they asked me if it was an abortion or a loss.  Isn't there somewhere in the paperwork they could jot that down?

I've been embarrassed-- that I was excited; that i didn't see this coming; that I actually thought the pregnancy would produce a baby, another child for us, as easily as the first pregnancies did.  Embarrassed that I thought miscarriages happened to other people, not to me.

I have been terrified by the thought of trying again.  Scared out of my mind imagining facing this heartache twice, and wondering how in the world women do it.  I have been equally terrified, however, by the thought of not trying. Terrified that fear will win.

I have been overwhelmed.  The smallest tasks, paying a bill, making a phone call, cooking my family dinner, seems akin to climbing Mt. Everest.  When Josh gets home I tell him all I've gotten done each day, and its embarrassingly little.  Thankfully he doesn't mind.  But I do.

I have been irritated.  Problems other people are facing, or things other people are doing can seem to me (in my hormone impacted state) to be of less importance than what I'm facing (or have faced).

I have audibly gasped when I open my t-shirt drawer faced with brand new maternity shirts that I no longer need, or opened my spice cupboard faced with prenatal vitamins my body no longer requires, or go to put on my make up and see the pregnancy test that I smiled at every morning as I spread foundation on my glowing face.  I now get ready for the day in yoga pants, my budding baby belly now a burlap sack that hangs lazily over my pants, no life within.  My face, once glowing and clear is now pale & acne covered.  The stress & sadness obviously visible.

And strangely alongside all these emotions, I have been grateful.  Grateful for the support I've received.  Grateful for the stories (and pain) shared by those who've been through it.  Grateful for Josh's love and neverending ability to listen & actually hear me.  But most of all, I've been grateful for the boys I have.  Grateful that for some reason I didn't lose the twins. Or Wyatt. Grateful that they were born healthy and that I get to wake up to them every morning and put them to bed every night.  

At the end of each day I find myself exhausted because, well, because of all the feels.  But it's a good kind of exhausted.  As every emotion bubbles to the surface, I say hello... sometimes I hug it... and then I let it go.  It's not ideal. Sometimes it's hard. But it works.

I listened to Dierks Bentley's song Riser today, and it brought me to tears.

Lay your pretty head down on my shoulder

You don't have to worry anymore

This old world is cold and getting colder

And I know how to lock and bolt the door.

I'm strong enough to hold you through the winter

Mean enough to stare your demons down

The hard times put the shine into the diamond

I won't let that keep us in the ground.

***

Here's hoping these hard times produce some diamonds.