[sarha81]

So I managed to pull together something that is less personal and more general, but still describes what we go through. It ran today in my publication (link: Amid grief, she learns each day gets a smidgen better | poughkeepsiejournal.com | Poughkeepsie Journal) if you are curious. You all inspired me to get something out there, tho I wish I had more courage to share the reason behind this, so people understand. I really want to tell my OBGYN practice how it feels so they don't treat other women like "oh well, this happens all the time." But maybe another day ...


(I am a writer and I've put this together to heal? to cope? to get it out? but I know I can never publish it because it hurts too much, it's too personal. I'm sharing it here with you all because maybe you know how this feels and maybe together, we can make it, a day, a month, a year. Maybe we can be whole again.)

A drop of blood. Oh no, oh no. Oh god no. Just maybe it is nothing. Just maybe it will stop. GOD, please, she says. She needs it to stop.
More blood. Rushing.
Sobbing. Call to the doctor’s office. Begging God for mercy on drive there.
In the waiting room. Torture. Women. Round women. Spewing joy while she bleeds. Why does she have to look at them? She hates them. She tries not to but she wants to be where they are not.
Her doctor’s face is blank. She knows what’s coming and wants to die. And then it comes: No heartbeat. She’s shown death on the screen. It’s shaped like a peanut. Not beating. Horrific. She covers her mouth to stop from throwing up.
Her husband, her crutch, takes over, steering her to her car, to home. She will never stop crying. She chants, “I can’t do this.”
She sees it — what she’s fallen completely in love with. Tiny. Dead.
She collapses into the shower and screams. Windows open. First day of school. She doesn’t care. Consumed by grief, nothing else exists.
She watches her heart bleed down the drain.
She wants her bed. No. She changes her mind. She wants to scream, punch, run away. Instead, she walks. She goes blank. Stares at the ground. Thinks only of the next step. The hardest decision she has to make — to keep going.
She manages to eat dinner — the first meal of the day. She laughs at a movie, a distraction.
She sleeps. Wakes up at 3 a.m. and cries. Sleeps. Wakes up at 6 a.m. and cries.
Doctor’s office. Exam No. Two confirms what she already knows. She is empty.
She is told statistics. They make her want to smash the nearest object. The percentages taunt her, “Get over it,” they say. “Don’t you know how common this is?”
She feels pathetic. Guilty: For grieving. For checking out of life. But she can’t do anything about it.
She feels alone. And she likes it that way. Don’t visit. Don’t call. Don’t ask her how she is. It makes it worse. Sends her right back there when her old normal stopped.
New normal is numb, hatred, jealousy — all riders on her Ferris wheel, switching who gets the top seat.
Normal is not being able to repeat after the priest: “God is good to me.” But she tries. Gets the first two words out anyway.
God is.
Normal is spending hours on Internet forums where others say the words that she longs to hear, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Normal is being unable to look forward to the weekend, the trip, shoe shopping, a glass of wine.
Normal is a new perspective. Health. Children. Love. Comfort. She knows how easy it is to forgot that these things are not entitlements. Love is not handed out at the Department of Social Services when someone falls on bad times. Children are not found in every home. Comfort cannot be ordered at the drugstore in pill format. Health is not a guarantee.
She starts to see what she has, what she has always had.
Normal is making it through the minute and hoping that the minute will turn into the hour, then the day, month and one year — the year that she can look back on and feel like she made it.
She will make it.

[.:Shortcake:.]

I could have sat there and wrote that myself. HUGS! I know exactly how you feel and for me sometimes writing helps get your feelings out!

[TTCin2010]

I am bawling my eyes out. Thanks for sharing hugs

[missy123]

I think you SHOULD publish it. Maybe it would help others understand what losing a baby feels like. Well written.

I am sorry for your loss

[Micksbabe]

Wow it is amazing how you put it all down in words. I am sorry for your loss, I want to also say thank you for sharing that, it is very powerful and not an easy thing to do.

[*MomofO&Nat*]

Well said! I am choked up.

[Pitridge]

Thanks for sharing. You just described how we all have felt/feel. It funny that it was beautiful, sad, but all of it was very true........

[shen7]

This is profound and moving writing. I want to show it to every insensitive jerk, ever, so that everyone can understand what it feels like. Great work........

[ldovey83]

That was great... Thanks for sharing..

I too like to write my feelings out, but I do alot of poetry.. I have been working on a poem hoping I can grieve some, but that still hasn't come.. I still have alot of anger.. It definitely helps to get it out on paper though..