I’ve always been wary of writing posts that are “too personal.” Whatever that means. It’s a result of having a parent that is maliciously narcissistic and predatory. I’ve generally been happy to Reblog, Like and post items about current events, Idris Elba crushes, etc…you get the idea. With that said, I think it’s time for a change. I think it’s time to start really writing for myself and sharing bits and pieces of my life with an online community that has embraced me in some surprising ways and shown me different ways to grow and adapt in a world that generally feels pretty hostile.
Lately I’ve been thinking about the miscarriage I had in early September; hence the title. I’ve never been one to expose my soft underbelly in such a way but the experience of being pregnant and then not, well, it’s been significant for me and affected my outlook on well, a whole lot.
My husband and I found out I was pregnant sort of by accident but I was suspected and yet was in denial. I made an appointment with a midwife right away and tried to keep to my normal routine that included working out, regular appointments, etc. Looking back now, I would definitely pamper myself more. My midwife told me that the energy it takes for the body to create another life in that first trimester is equal to running 15 miles. A day.
I went in at about 7 weeks and I felt okay, exhausted, slightly nauseous but everything looked okay but no heartbeat was found on the Doppler. Come about 11 weeks I started spotting and then cramping and I knew just based on conversations I’d had with my midwife and various posts I read. If there was any upside it was that I didn’t have to have any further procedures i.e. a D&C.
My husband and I are both well-read intellectuals. Speaking for myself, I can talk myself out of a lot of stuff. But this was different. The miscarriage hit us both in a way that was totally unexpected; we were so much more disappointed than we thought possible. All the intellectualizing went away. The excitement we had initially felt was overcome with a sense of helplessness and for me rage. Rage at my body. Rage at the loss of control. It’s one thing to lose control of a situation that is external to you, it’s another to have a being, a process, happening inside of you and not being able to do a fucking thing about it. And we were both disappointed. And sad. And pissed.
As my husband pointed out the grieving process was different for him than for me. He was sad, in a quiet intense way and for me, well, grief overcame me in waves. Sometimes at work I stared into space and swallowed back tears. For a couple of weeks, every so often when I came home I would just sit on the bed and just cry. Initially I tried to be strong, stoic and move on. However my partner pointed out to me that by not demonstrating the same amount of compassion for myself that I do for others, it was going to come back and bite me in the ass.
So I stopped intellectualizing. And let myself feel. I let myself go back into my body and by that I mean being present in my body. I worked out. I slept. I let myself relax and be still when I wanted to and I pushed myself into a sweaty heap after during a workout when the need arose. I took a trip back home to Oakland where my adoptive mamas took care of my heart and soul. There were several weeks of just sitting. Indulging in food, drink, sleep and hard workouts. And finally, balance. I finally feel balanced.
And still apprehensive about trying again. I can’t tell you how many conversations I’ve had with other women about how many first pregnancies resulted in miscarriages, especially after being on the pill for a long time, etc. That miscarriages happen to so many women but it’s not discussed. I get why and yet, I don’t. I’m scared about the possibility of it happening again and yet, excited about the prospect of having a child with someone that I adore and love and is truly my beloved. We’re still excited about the prospect of having a child together and that is all I can ask for at the present.
I’m sure I’ll have more posts about this as the weeks progress but for now that’s all. I have a post brewing about the post-election microagressions I experienced with a coworker.