Archive for April, 2009


Trying and Trying Again

April 30, 2009

The need to be a mother is not an intellectual desire. Call it spirital, emotional, animal- its a raw undeniable need. I’m a thirsty beggar praying for rain but I am so scared of the road ahead. My doctor said I can start trying again after my period which should come in four to six weeks. I see the path of infertility I’ve wandered on for a year, and I feel afraid.

I don’t want to “try” again. I don’t want to count my ovulation days. I don’t want to check my cervical mucus. I don’t want to time my sex. I don’t want to sit contemplating phantom symptoms for two weeks. I don’t want to wait two weeks for results, and with my wonky cycle, often three to four weeks. I don’t want to see one more negative pregnancy test. The thought of seeing the blank space where I have now once seen a line, I fear it may break me. I am so scared my hands tremble.

And yet- I will try again. I will count my ovulation days. I will check my cervical mucus and time sex, and check my body for phantom signs and wait two weeks and take pregnancy tests. I don’t know why on an intellectual level, but I am willing to take the risk of going through the depths of hell again. Either I am crazy, or its a force beyond myself that pulls me to try and try again.

I wanted to share this youtube video from Sesame Street days. Whenever I think of trying to conceive again, I always think of the little kitten in this video. I must have watched this video 100 times growing up. Watching it now at least made me smile.  If you are reading this and are thinking of the road ahead like me, perhaps this video, if not give you comfort will at least bring back a nice memory or a smile.


Miscarriage, 2.5 weeks and the pain remains

April 30, 2009

I keep hoping that the healing process is beginning. I keep hoping that I am getting better and ready to move on. Yet the grief comes in waves like a Tsunami. I am peaceful and then in the middle of reading a book, or a conversation about pizza, I am seized by the powerful emotion and I fear I will drown. I take two steps forward, and then four steps back. I feel that I am tip toeing out of darkness and a dream or a memory drags me back in like a black snake coiled around my throat. When will I heal? Is this what healing feels like? Maybe healing means that you continue to ache and bleed along the way. Maybe with a loss as painful as this the heart never fully recovers.


Dreams of My Daughter

April 30, 2009

I refer to the child I lost as him. I’ve wondered why that is so.

Six months before I got pregnant I dreamed of a little girl, she was about one years old. I held her in my arms and tossed her in the air. She smiled wide with large brown eyes. Her hair black and cut short her face plump and round. The image is frozen in my mind looking down at me up in the air, my arms holding her up. I knew then that my first child would be a daughter.  Two weeks before I got pregnant my mother called me and told me she had a dream, a cute little girl with short brown hair, smiling up at her.  Last night I had a vivid dream. A little girl about one years old, she ran around barefoot as I tried to catch her. Her hair was short and dark, small gold earrings in her air. She wore pink overalls.

I think I know why I call my unborn child him. If the child that died is the girl in my dreams, the one I’ve held and kissed and loved as a mother, I fear what such acceptance would do to me. I am trying to be positive. That this child represents hope for a future daughter. That she is the daughter I still have hopes to have, but now, as I’m haunted, wondering if this baby I lost was her, the grief seems to stir itself within my soul once again as though anew.

Little baby, if you only knew how much I miss you. I would give my life just for a moment to hold you up in the air and see your beautiful smile.

Please God, give me strength. Give me comfort. This is so damn hard sometimes.


Being a Zombie

April 30, 2009

I spoke with a co-worker today about something work related to which they said so you’re just a zombie, part of the living dead. That resonated with me. Many days, this is how I feel. I am a living zombie. I wake up. I brush my teeth. I wash my hair. I spend time with friends. I work. I watch television. I read. I laugh. I smile. I hug. I kiss. But inside, I’m still in a daze. There are moments- where the pain subsides for a few minutes, or hours; these remind me of who I was. A joke that slips out naturally, a thought about Oh I better return that library book and feeling an urgency to complete the task. But otherwise- I feel as though I am looking but not seeing, touching but not feeling, hearing but not truly understanding my life around me. Sometimes it feels as though it is only through tears that I am alive. When those moments hit me, when I realize what I lost and pain sears through me like a stake through the heart, I feel close to my truest self. I am not a robot. I am seeing, feeling, and understanding a loss more real to me than anything else. I am sure there will come a time when I won’t have to take each day one day at a time. I won’t have be proud that i made it through one day without falling apart in a meeting or over lunch. I wonder when that day will be.


My one day streak and poetry

April 29, 2009

That’s how long I’ve gone without crying. I thought I was going to hit day two but I read poetry by a woman who has been in my shoes and the feeling of being fully understood makes me weep because I know as selfish as it is, I am not alone.

The lines that affected me most:  It comes to seem like a dream, impossible that we ever hovered on this threshold or imagined ourselves ready to go through.

If you are suffering through a miscarriage and would like some poetry for the soul, read here:


Starting the healing process, maybe

April 28, 2009

This miscarriage did not simply take away the future I imagined for the child who resided within me for those brief months. My miscarriage was an earthquake shattering my preconceived notions of God and faith. It was these two things that took me to what feels like the lowest reaches of hell. I lost a dream and I lost the framework with which I saw my world.

I’m beginning to analyze my grief and pain within the context of a God. Faith is about a belief in what one cannot tangibly witness. Love, trust, hope, God.

Something wretched has happened to me, like someone stripped away my skin and threw alcohol on the bloody wounds. This makes me question God, it makes me question His existence. Would a kind loving God hurt me this way?

But- when did he promise me an easy life? When did He promise to pave my path with flowers? Yes, I thought after my hardship of infertility, God gave me ease with the pregnancy… but no one guarunteed I would not lose it. That life would not grow difficult again.

Life is difficult for everyone in their own individual ways. Lost jobs. Death of loved ones [a difficulty we must all someday endure]. Illness. Heart break. Theft. Cruelty. No one save those who may lack capacity to understand are spared from life’s heartaches.

Life is beautiful, yes. But life is very very difficult too.  Sometimes we begin to think that we are entitled to a loving partner, or a healthy baby, or a job we like. When we don’t get it we are angry at God for not making life work as we wanted.

This miscarriage has stripped me from the spiritual daze I’ve lived in for three years. It’s forced me to question God, and my life, and how I feel about faith. Questions that I have avoided because they are too complicated to contemplate. This miscarriage caused me to instinctively turn to God and then confront how lost I feel lately. I’m a hamster on a wheel that stopped spinning and this miscarriage has given me a kick start.

I’m not sure what this means for me. Will this contemplation lead me closer to God or further away? Can I once again believe as I once did that there is a purpose in our lives and a reason things happen, good or bad?

I don’t know. But I can’t help but be taken aback by this one thing: A dear friend flew in last night. I’ve known of her arrival for months. I looked forward to her visit and my chance to share my good news with her. Ofcourse by the time she came, there was no longer that good news. However, talking to her is slowly leading me out of the darkness I’ve been in for weeks now. I had no idea I would miscarry or that I would tell her or or that she would be the  impetus of me considering finding my faith again. I cannot help but wonder, if perhaps someone else did know I would miscarry and knew that she would be someone who would give me the strength I needed at this time an the assistance to reevaluate my relationship with God. I look at the timing of it all and I wonder: Is He watching over me? Did he arrange events to happen just so?

I don’t know. But the thought of this, the mere possibility, gives me a strand of peace.


Planning for the future

April 28, 2009

I submitted a book to a writing contest. They said it was good but I did not win.

I got pregnant. They said I would be fine since my heart beat was 162. I miscarried.

I plan a trip to yes, MEXICO, in ten days. One of those free vouchers from credit card companies. Well, swine flu. Now we’re likely going to have to lose our free airline tickets and the $300+ we spent for our hotel stay.

If you want to give God a good laugh, tell Him your plans for the future.

I hope someone somewhere is having a huge laugh.