It’s been a week and four days since my miscarriage. It feels like it was a lifetime ago. It feels like yesterday. The pain is still so raw. This has been my first week back at work and I’m not going to lie- it’s been hard. I can’t concentrate. I have no motivation. It’s exhausting to pretend to care. It’s exhausting to entertain and teach small children, when all I really want to do is go home, sit in front of the TV, and escape to drama filled T.V. shows like Nashville.
After miscarriage, the small petty things just don’t seem to matter. I don’t have time or energy for drama. Hell, I can’t even pull it together to plan Noah’s fourth birthday party, which we have postponed a few times already. I realize I need time to heal emotionally and as time passes the pain should subside a bit as well. Yet, I also realize that part of me will always ache for a baby that I will never be able to hold. Was it a boy or a girl? Would he or she have red hair like Ryker or Noah? Big blue eyes like Xander? Questions that will never be answered.
When we first found out I was pregnant, Adrian asked me how long we would wait until we posted it on Facebook to tell the world. I wanted to wait until after the first appointment for our big Facebook announcement. We told our family immediately. This is how we did it with all of our kids, because that’s just what you do, right? But why? Why wait until after the confirmation that everything is going to be okay. Or wait until you are out of the first trimester when the risk of miscarriage is much lower? It doesn’t make miscarriage any easier. I didn’t feel like I needed to keep my miscarriage a secret. It’s part of my now life. It will be part of my forever life.
This week when people have asked me “Are you feeling better?” I’m not quite sure what to say. Speak the truth or sugar coat it? Most of the time I reply with an “Okay.” or “I’m here.”, which are both not exactly a blatant lie. I am okay physically for the most part. Last week was pure hell, as my body reacted horribly to my miscarriage with awful an awful stomach flu. Now I’m left with a few stretch marks and my varicose veins on my legs are quite swollen, as if I’m still pregnant or just delivered a full term baby. Overall though, I’m here and present for my family, even during the hardest times and saddest moments when my mind drifts.
Right now what matters most is the small moments with my family. Snuggling with my boys during story time before bed. Sharing a chaotic dinner. Racing around in the morning to get them dressed and out of the house on time. These are the moments that are helping me get through the pain. These are the moments that matter the most.