July 27, 2009

Has grief ever threatened to strangle you? Have you ever felt its sinewy arms snake around you and tighten clamping against your neck making you feel you might literally actually die. I was okay yesterday. Sure, sad, but not feeling like I might go mad with grief. Today I woke up and suddenly the world seemed like a dark inhospitable place. I’m so angry. My head throbs with fumes of fury. My tears are hot they burn like acid on my skin. Please don’t tell me the stages of grief. I know them backwards and forwards. But stages, and charts they make me angry right now, cataloguing my emotions telling me in a didactic voice how I should be feeling. I am mad that I had to put through a run around for ten days only to have a conclusion like this. I’m so fucking mad that I don’t know what the road ahead has in store for me. Will I be 80 reading back my words and have nothing to show for it? How long will I write in this infertility blog about my struggle? Will it spill over into another year? Another decade?

I want so desperately to be at peace. I want so desperately not to feel this pain scorching every cell in my body. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to hurt. Two losses, and I know that there is no guaruntee that it will stop at just two. Right now there is a dark cloud over my head, its real and its black and its rife with thunder and lightening and any moment it will strike and it will knock me dead. I don’t know if I will ever be the same. I don’t really know, how I’m supposed to go on. Two miscarriages. Two. All innocence is loss. All banal attempts at yeah sure it’ll happen for you mean jackshit. My thirtieth birthday looms large mere weeks from now and what have I got to show for it?

How do I get through this? How will I move on?


  1. I think the only we move through grief
    is breath by breath

    I wish I could take away your pain, I only know that it will not persist at this level, it cannot, you will get numb again, or sleep, and time will pass. It will rise up and fall back.

    Breath by breath Kate, it is all you can do.
    I am so sorry.

    thinking of you,

  2. one day at a time love, one day at a time… sometimes one minute at a time or one second at a time. i am so terribly sorry for your loss, i wish i could give you a big hug.

  3. Your last two posts, went right to my core. There are no words to describe the pain, guilt, and sorrow. I encourage you to see the RE. The lovenox and progesterone may be the answer. I have lost 3 pregnancies after seeing a heartbeat and I truly believe lovenox is the reason I am still carrying a live baby right now. My prayers are with you.

  4. every day i ask those questions and sadly, have no answers… sending hugs…

  5. I’m so sorry. I had 2 m/c back to back last year. I finally found out what caused my MCs and so will you. I did my own research and asked my doctors to check for certain things that could cause my MC. I think that may be a good way to focus your energies now…it’ll help you feel constructive, somewhat. The other thing I did, I bought a book, a daily devotional, that I could read focused directly on miscarriage and coping. I’m religious, so the one I got was religious, but there are tons out there that are not, in case you aren’t. Simply google search terms as – grieving the loss of a child, or grieving a miscarriage – you’ll find lots and I found they were helpful. Finally, I logged onto chat boards for survivers of MC – it helped to connect with others who have been in similar situations. I wish you the best. there is nothing more painful than the loss of a child, even if you never met him or her.

  6. kate…your words are raw and honest…fuck the stages of grief…remembering you with care, l

  7. I’m so sorry sweetheart. Try to breathe through the grief in the largest parcels of time you can bear – it may be seconds, or minute by minute, or hour by hour. Eventually, it will be a day, then longer.

    So much love to you sweet Kate,

  8. Yes, I’ve felt like that. The acupuncturist asked me if I was suicidal. I said, “no, but I feel like I’m going to die – there is a difference.” All I can tell you is that you do what I’ve been doing. You get up every morning. I go to bed at night and the only goal that I have is to wake up in the morning. Once I wake up, then I get out of bed…then to the shower…it’s how I deal – small tasks. I can’t look forward without becoming completely overwhelmed. Just hang on. That’s all I can say because that’s all I am doing. Just hang on.

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