The last few months have been some of the hardest I've ever had to cope with. I can feel the hurt increasing, like it's boiling up to a particular point, and it might spill over any second. I didn't think I'd write on this blog again, but today I'm feeling so overwhelmed with my emotions that it just feels like the right thing to do.
It's less than 2 months now until what would have been our estimated due date. Some people will ask why I'm even thinking about that, you know, cos I'm not pregnant anymore. Here's the thing. When it's all you've wanted for more than the last 4 years of your life, getting that positive test immediately transports your mind to all the things that could be happening in the next 9 months and how being pregnant will affect those things. You try really hard not to get over excited, especially given your history, but you also have to be a little practical. These events span out through the 9 months and instantly become milestones.
When the worst then happens, you still have these milestones planned out in front of you. A christening you can't cope with attending now, even though the couple are your best friends and you love their daughter like you were actually her aunt and uncle. Travelling to stay with family that you hoped to surprise with a little baby bump. Your birthday, you hoped to celebrate as a mummy-to-be. A holiday you hoped to be annoyingly pregnant on, meaning you would need to be transported about by the family so your husband could ride his motorbike, and you could waddle around the island 27 weeks pregnant and maybe buy some baby sized memorabilia. Mother-in-laws fancy dress retirement party complete with bump friendly fancy dress. His birthday...it had secretly crossed your mind that you could get him a Dad card. A friends wedding you weren't sure you'd be able to attend because you would be about ready to drop.
I've put on my smile and I've done my damn best impression of someone who is coping really bloody well and having a fantastic time. For the most part I've enjoyed myself and fooled myself in equal measure. But these events always bring me back to the cruel fact that I am not pregnant anymore, that I will not be having the baby I dreamed of at the end of November, and of a Christmas spent yet again without the child I am so desperate for.
My jealousy of those with bumps, babies and children is reaching new levels of bitterness. I have mentally divided the people around me into those I deem worthy of having a child and those that, against what measure I don't even know, are not. No one is safe from this system of division, whether family, friend or foe. This is based heavily on how I am feeling on a day to day basis, and often results in cursing, stamping and hitting things, then crying and taking to my bed! I'm sure some people would be horrified by all of this. I can't stop it, my brain goes there with very little prompting.
I suppose all these feeling are normal, but it can be a difficult and lonely place. It's hard to talk about even with my closest friends, sometimes even with Ben. I don't want to be upset. I don't want to upset him. Sometimes I just need to get through the day, so I put my blinkers on, get my head down and get on with it. The problem with not acknowledging it, is that it can give the impression that we've moved on, or at the very least that we don't want to talk. There are people in my life that definitely do not want to talk about it. Probably because they don't know what to say, or maybe they fear upsetting me by reminding me of something really painful. Well, you can't remind me. I will never forget. Not even when I'm laughing my head off! And if you avoid it, then I feel like I can't ever talk about it, or that you've forgotten about it and moved on without me.
And by it, I mean miscarriage after 2+ years of fertility treatment, implantation failure and recurrent miscarriage. I'm not just grieving the loss of this baby. I'm grieving the loss of all of them, because it's very unlikely that we'll be having children of our own. I will never get to share the excitement of pregnancy with you again. I will never get to carry my child. I will never get to share my birth story, or the trails and tribulations of the early years.
This is not the person I expected to be.