Posts Tagged ‘Guilt’


Fears of insomnia, etc. **Updated**

July 30, 2009

All my life I’ve been blessed with the ability to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.  Lately I toss and turn each night and then relocate to the couch watching reruns and researching miscarriages, PCOS, lupus anticoagulant, anything and everything I can find. I havent slept before 3am in over a week and its catching up to me. It’s approaching midnight now and I know it will be another sleepless night. I hate the dark thoughts that whisper to me in bed, and I fear the uncertainty of not knowing what the morning will bring.

Today was a tough day physically. I’ve been having sharp contractions. I’m taking Lortab a painkiller and its having wonky side effects. I took it last miscarriage and felt fine, but this time I’m feeling nauseous, dizzy, tired and very drugged. I couldn’t drive to work, so I thought at least I’d clean up since my parents are coming into town tomorrow, but I couldn’t do anything except curl up in bed. I am afraid to take Lortab again, its a debate at the moment between the painful contractions as tissue is expelled through my body, or the feeling of being heavily drugged. I have an appointment with my OBGYN tomorrow afternoon. We spoke yesterday when she called in my pain killer prescription she said I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you for sure what caused your miscarriage but next time you’ll get Lovenox from the get go. We’re still waiting for lab results for a comprehensive test the Maternal Fetal Specialist ran on my blood to determine what other disorders I have. I want to know if there’s testing that’s available to know if I have low progesterone levels, and what can I do if I do have low levels considering most experts say you must start supplements as soon as you ovulate and me with my PCOS never know when/if ovulation occured.

Emotionally I’m doing better. I’m trying to battle my dark thoughts. I’m telling myself that 30 is not too late, I still have time and shouldn’t lose hope (right??).  My parents are coming tomorrow. I’m afraid of crying too much around them. I just feel like I’ve disappointed them and seeing them reminds me of this. I know that’s not the case but just thinking about it makes my eyes well with tears. I wish I could kick this unhealthy guilt.

Finally, I’ve been humbled to read Michele‘s blog. She’s been commenting on my blog as I wade through my darkest days and only today did I realize how much more she herself is going through right now.  Every day I’m amazed at how strong you all are. You comfort me and give me support in the midst of your own fears and unique heartaches. I don’t think I can say it enough, thanks.

**Updated to Add**: Holy shit. I woke up this morning around 6:15 to take a shower and see my therapist at 7am before going to work. I woke up feeling a weird coat of sweat on me and kind of shivering, then suddenly I had an overwhelming desire to vomit but I couldn’t, but I wanted to, its the most terrible place to be. So I think to myself that a shower will help so I turn the shower on, and the next thing I know I’m lying on the floor and Jack is on the phone with 911 screaming wake up wake up honey wake up. Apparently I passed out in the bathroom but fell backwards hitting my head against the bathroom doors and landed with a thump on the floor. I don’t know how long I was out for but apparently long enough for Jack to rush over and see if I was okay and call 911. I still remember hearing his voice as I was coming to, not knowing where I was, what was happening.  I looked up the side effects of Lortab and one of the serious ones is nausea, dizziness, clamminess, and fainting. Clearly I won’t be taking any more of these painkillers but I wanted to post this for anyone considering taking Lortab, monitor yourself closely or ask for a different pill.


Thoughts post-miscarriage #2

July 26, 2009

I’m sure anyone who battles infertility and anyone who has the loss of miscarriages under their belt never could have imagined how difficult having a child would be. I had an inkling due to my irregular periods that I would battle infertility. I never knew I would face the pain of miscarriage, twice. So far. What do I make of two miscarriages with two heartbeats? Is it a progesterone problem, since I was borderline two weeks ago. Is it my HCG doesn’t know how to double? Is it the lupus anticoagulant? Is it my cervix or uterus that find child carrying bothersome? I hope against all hope that an RE will know the answer. All I know is I’m sad, I’m angry, and I feel guilty as hell. I am aware the guilt is illogical but its real and throbs in my chest.

1. I feel guilty that babies with heartbeats that are supposed to have less than 2% chance of dying, die in my womb. I’m so sorry to have brought them into this world only to have left without a kiss or a hug.

2. I feel guilty that thanks to my fucked up body Jack isn’t a father. He told me last night, as though reading my mind, I want a baby with you, and if its not with you then with no one else. Still, the guilt eats away at my soul. God, he’d be a good father. He would rock her to sleep and teach her tennis. I wish I had it in my power to give him a child.

3. I feel guilty that thanks to my fucked up body my parents are not grandparents.  They want it bad and I can’t give it. God knows, I try. I do my best but I can’t seem to follow through. They are coming this weekend and I feel a strong lump in my throat. They should be coming to spoil a grandchild. Every interaction we have feels empty to me because there is not a child. My parents will not live forever. I’m so afraid they’ll never meet their grandchild.

Grief and guilt intermingle through my veins in equal parts. Jack wants to wait at least three months. He says we should make an appointment with an RE and figure stuff out and just spend some time not thinking about baby making. I don’t know what to make of it. On one hand I want to try again. Yes I got pregnant twice back to back but I don’t take it for granted. I spent 13 months trying in vain. I know how long the stretch can be. Each month we wait feels like time that I can’t get back, time wasted in the babymaking game. Then on the other hand it makes sense. I can workout and lose the ten pounds Ive been battling. I get three months of not TTC, or TWWing. God knows TWWs suck. Maybe it would do me good. I’m scared to risk three losses in a year. but you’re most fertile post-miscarriage. All these thoughts swirl as I face the future, grieve the past, and wonder the hell I’m going to do right now. Thanks to those who sent well wishes. I appreciate it. I warn you though, this blog won’t be a very fun place to be for some time.

I’m Charlie fucking Brown and I can’t seem to stop trying to kick that football. Can someone please shoot Lucy?


My miscarriage, my fault

May 14, 2009

I rarely get on twitter anymore. I never was big on it anyway. Today I checked in. A friend who is a new mother tweeted After nine months I can finally eat raw cookie dough! I missed it so.

I am now biting my lip to fight back tears. You see,  I ate raw cookie dough. I ate sunny side up eggs, twice. You’re not supposed to eat raw eggs when you’re pregnant. The day I found out I was pregnant, I had eaten sushi. No! Said the doctor- no sushi for you! I drank tea almost every day. Some caffeine okay, but better none at all! I lifted a carry on suitcase. No straining yourself when pregnant! I remember seeing a man looking at me as I lifted it and thought, I shoudl ask him. But I didn’t. I did it myself.

I read that one sentence and guilt now seeps through my pores like acid. What kind of mother would I be? Could I not push away for nine months my selfish desires? Did I in any way cause my baby to die? Is this my fault? Do I deserve to be a mother?

Dear God- if you still listen to me. I promise to be better next time. I swear.


Miscarriage and your husband

April 24, 2009

I love Jack dearly. Even in the midst of my grief I can look at him and know that I am blessed to have his support. Yet I must say there is something else burrowing in the midst of my gratitude for his presence in my life. I can’t pinpoint the right word for it but I can try to explain it. For me, my baby was a baby. He was a tiny little thing but I saw him. I heard his little heart beating, I saw his little body floating in my womb curled up, the hint of the umbilical cord that connected us a faint line on the screen. Seeing him made me believe he was real. When I woke up to pee in the middle of the night, when I gagged from a smell, I imagined that little being, the connection between my husband and I, the innocent creature I was privileged to house for a brief while. He was my baby.

Jack isn’t experiencing this like me. The night it happened he cried and the next few days we both wandered the house as if we were shell shocked. But now- he’s not curled up in fetal position crying his eyes out. He’s not running on the treadmill to run from the demons. He’s not biting his trembling lip wondering why did this happen. Jack has peace. He believes this happened for a reason. When I refer to speck as “he”, Jack objects. “You don’t know what the gender was. It was not a baby. It was just a thing.” My tears cause him discomfort. Sometimes he hugs me, sometimes he tries to joke to change the topic or get my mind off of it. A conversation about God and Purpose? Forget it. It’s a closed topic.

I try to respect this because a) he did not house this baby, his body did not begin the physical changes to accommodate the child b) perhaps this is a way to deal with the pain, if it was not a child or a baby yet then the grief is less c) some people can believe it happened for a reason and it gives them comfort. He doesn’t want me to question the purpose argument because then honestly, what the fuck is there to make sense of this?

We’re going to a concert tomorrow and he’s so excited because he loves the singer. I’m excited because I might for a few hours not remember what happened.

The truth is, I think from reading tons of other blogs on this subject, that at the end of the day that child housed in your body. Stole your nutrients and gave you headaches. Because you actively felt the presence of this child, the child is more real to you than he could ever be to your husband. In particular I liked what this blog had to say:

Almost every single woman feels this way (only a very small number mention partners that are sensitive and helpful)
100% of dads I’ve talked to or who have gotten on the board either want to know how to be strong for their wives or confess that they are grieving deeply and don’t want their wives to know
Men (and many women) really do believe that if you stop thinking about something, the problem goes away. Thus, they say comments like “Stop thinking about it” or “You’re getting obsessed about this” or “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Truly, nothing could be further from the truth. Talking about your problems is a catharsis and will help you heal faster.
A very natural dynamic in every couple, particularly if you live together or are married, is that only one person can fall apart at a time. If you both fall apart, no one will be making dinner, keeping the clothes washed, or manage other children, if you have them. This is an important function of the partnership, and is very rarely breached. Whoever is less sad at the moment will swallow their grief and deal with it later. The other person will feel abandoned and alone, and the partner may recognize it, but feel helpless to really get involved due to the pressure of keeping everyday life going. This time will pass, and the acute phase is usually a month or less.

It helps to understand why they feel differently than us and in some ways its good that he acts differently. Its because of him I’m still going to Asheville, or went out shopping last weekend [and ENCOURAGED me to buy a Coach bag… serioulsy, if only you knew Jack…] He supports me and wants me to get my mind off of things. And it does help to wear a mask and pretend to be okay because for brief moments you do forget.


Ways I sometimes blame myself

April 24, 2009

1. I flopped down on my stomach once when I went to bed.

2. I lifted a suitcase onto the overhead compartment on a flight.

3. I worried.

4. I started pre-natals a week after I found out I was pregnant.

5.  I complained about my nausea once.

6. I drank tea.

7. I got upset over my JOB. Or a letter from the HOA to FIX MY MAIL BOX. Or something my MIL said. Or my WEIGHT and wondering how I’d lose the baby weight when I’m not at the WEIGHT I want to be at now. I did not fully appreciate my baby. I focused on shit that was unimportant and didn’t just remain grateful night and day that I was pregnant and I should be happy. So he was taken from me. For my ungrateful nature.

8. I didn’t push my doctor on getting progesterone shots when she said I didn’t need them.

9. I forgot to take my metformin medication one night.

10. I wasn’t skinny enough.

11. I yelled at my SIL

12. I considered a friend’s offer to throw me a baby shower. I counted my chickens before they hatched.

Logically, I know that many of these reasons are illogical. I know that one missed dose of Metformin, which was just recommended and optional, did not result in the miscarriage. A friend pointed out Octo-Mom has 14 babies and she’s not a saint to the world. I get that on an intellectual level. But the base instinctual part of me turns against myself. I guess it is natural to try to find someone to blame.