It was always clear that writing this will never be easy. I started and deleted because it’s so personal and at the end of the day I stop because I don’t have the words to express and give the justice to what is really going on. In some ways, unless I can really express it, I don’t want to cheapen one of the hardest things I have ever gone through.
At the moment I am living in the ripples of it all. There are times, mostly when I am at work and focused on tasks, when I am fine. Then there are the times when something inside swells and breaks the banks. Other times I feel severe emptiness and deep loss. I get extremely tired, irritated and that causes me to be emotional. I am not the crying type but lately that has changed. All of it is framed in fear about the future, about having children again. There have been times when I have wondered if I have made the right choice in life by waiting this long for having children.
When I found out, I was sitting on the examining table and waiting for him to tell me that he found the heartbeat. I looked over to the screen where I could make out the outline of the baby with its little head, arms and legs. The measuring said 9w6d when I knew it should be almost 12 weeks. He was silent for a long time and then said “The heartbeat should be here, it’s not”.
In my head I was screaming that this is not happening to me. With my mind I knew that what he was saying was true. The loss of morning sickness a few weeks earlier wasn’t just my imagination. I covered my face with my hands and cried. The doctor took my hand, which was so compassionate and sincere. His hand felt so warm on my ice cold fingers, and said “I know this is hard but this wasn’t your fault, it does not mean that it will affect your fertility in the future, your next pregnancy will most likely go well.”
I didn’t have anything to say back. My whole being was screaming that I don’t want to be here, hearing this.
I had accepted this pregnancy. I had celebrated it. I was so looking forward to it. Overnight, I was so ready. I felt so feminine and so happy. I felt love overflowing in me. It didn’t matter how big or small he or she was. It was my baby, inside me. I was doing everything and anything to give the best, including beetroot juice, which in all honesty, I really dislike. I realised that I am so ready to focus on this little being. This lioness instinct woke up in me, I felt so protective. This baby was so wanted and celebrated.
People around us knew that I was pregnant. Now I wanted to ‘untell’ as quickly as I could. There was this deep need to let them know so they are not living in false happiness. I also dreaded telling it. Especially I dreaded telling our parents because I knew how much they were looking forward to the first grandbaby. I hated hurting them with these news.
When the news started spreading, we were getting flowers and people were expecting to see me fall apart. After that first day, I was actually fine and wondering myself why I am not more hurt or upset. I was going for dinner with friends and I was fine. Then we left for a month long vacation to the States.
I won’t go into detail here about all the health problems and complications, which I think was part of the reason why I didn’t grieve then, I was just trying to get things sorted out. To this day I am not sure if everything is ok but slowly doctors are testing and hoping that things will return to normal.
Then it started setting in. One of the lowest points was when we were in NYC. We went to the Times Square Church and when we left, I knew there is something still there that I need to get. I went back and asked a woman for a prayer. I don’t know how much I asked and how much it was tears and snot pouring out of me and me mumbling about a lost baby. As she was praying, I felt peace come over me. By the end of her prayer I felt lighter.
Ever since we’ve come back, the grief has expressed itself in extreme tiredness and irritation. I feel exhausted and I feel heartbroken. I find comfort in silence and solitude. I still keep going as normal and keep grieving quietly, to myself.
I have to give credit to my husband. He has allowed me to grieve as I need. He has been quiet when I needed silence and he has been there when I needed a human next to me. I never knew that it is possible to miss someone you have never met. I didn’t know that grief gets deeper as time goes by. In all honestly, I’ve never known grief like this before.