The truth and comedy of being a wife and mother
First, to put this out as a disclaimer, I am not a depressed type of person. I love to laugh, can be sarcastic to a fault and so positive at times I can make a pessimist look at things on the bright side.
That being said, I am also great at faking that I am alright. That is what I have been doing for roughly the past twenty-six days.
Twenty-six days ago I lost my baby.
Twenty-seven days ago I asked God to prepare me for what I hoped wouldn’t happen, but knew that there was a strong possibility of happening.
Twenty-eight days ago, I admitted that something wasn’t right to a co-worker, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Thirty days ago, I admitted to my husband while I was happy, joyful and hopeful, not everything was set in stone.
I told myself I was too emotional for everything that to be alright, but that the weird stomach pains would go away.
Forty-three days ago I found out I was pregnant with our second child.
Tomorrow was to be my ten-to-twelve week check-up.
Next Wednesday I will have my blood drawn for the sixth time in five and a half weeks.
Since we lost our baby…
I feel like I have been living my life counting.
Because I don’t want to feel that I am losing touch with the reality of the fact that we had a miscarriage. That no matter what I do I cannot, will not and do not want to forget that my second child is gone.
A funny comment my husband made when driving us home was, “I never pictured us as one of THOSE couples.” The truth is I didn’t either. Forget what the statistics say about how every woman miscarries at least once and sometimes without even knowing it.
I never considered the possibility until everything felt so…wrong. The one-eighty mood swings, weird abdomen pains I couldn’t even describe as pregnancy cramps, because they weren’t even close to my uterus.
Even then I went on with life as normal. But then the cramps returned, NOW they felt like PMS cramps. Then the spotting came, growing heavier with each day.
Then the inevitable.
Even then I wasn’t prepared for the emptiness that is only momentarily filled:
By Darren’s laughter…the hubby’s hugs…or by keeping extremely busy. I will feel the same about every miscarriage. You can’t lose something so precious and count it down as nothing. Carrying a child is too real to forget.
So I keep praying for God to give me strength and help me move through the darkest moment in my life. I thank him every time he gives me something to laugh about. I pray for the health of my husband and son, for my family, my friends.
Because if this is the sorrow I have for a human being I knew for eight weeks, I can’t image losing any one I have known and loved longer.