Time for a break

time for a break

 

So here we are, with three little stars in the sky.

 

It seems unimaginably horrible and cruel and yet I know (now) I am not unique in this experience.  After losing one baby you all reached out and told me of your losses. Some mentioned numbers then, most of you simply gave me words from your heart to let me know I was not alone.

 

Now that I’ve lost multiple, I have become a part of a brand new shitty club.  Perhaps you were protecting me before. Knowing that I needed to focus on the positive, not on the likelihood that I could experience this pain many times over before I get to hold my baby.  I’m not sure whether to thank you for that, or not.

 

Mostly I find myself feeling very lost right now.  I spent most of yesterday starting and stopping random jobs around the house, because I couldn’t really focus or motivate myself to do anything.  I’m restless, seeking distraction in all the usual places, but nothing seems to take the edge off anymore.

 

A wise woman wrote to me the other day to say ‘you need to water the flowers, not the weeds’. At first I thought, isn’t that what I’ve been doing? Haven’t I been trying to make a positive out of this whole shitty experience? I’ve been trying to share my heart, not only because it feels helpful to share the thoughts that rattle around my head so that I don’t feel so crazy and alone, but also because I know it helps some of you too.

 

But perhaps, in a way, this is also – ‘watering the weeds.’ I’ve been focusing on the negative, the sadness of it all.

 

Haven’t I?

 

I was sharing how scared and anxious I was in pregnancy – it wasn’t a story of hope. And yes, I stand by the fact that this is the honest truth of it, and I don’t want to be sharing a fake glossy version of anything. But by focusing on this, by sharing how scared and anxious I was – did I make the weeds grow?

 

 

I remember reading your comments on some of my posts over the last month and thinking ‘how can you be so positive?’ or ‘how can you be so optimistic after everything?’ wishing I could feel just a touch of it myself.

 

I think my friends, there lies a problem.

 

I’ve lost my optimism. I’ve lost my ability to see the possibility in anything. (Even non-baby related things, I find myself finding all the negatives before I even think of the positives).

 

I’ve lost hope. Along with it I’ve lost those feelings of love and excitement for life in general. 

 

Do you remember what it feels like to feel excited over something as simple as the crisp morning air reminding you that it’s nearly Easter? I don’t. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath. Like I wasn’t allowing myself to feel anything, trying to protect myself from being hurt again. (Look how well that turned out.)

 

 

Do you remember what it feels like to simply plan life around holidays and school dates?  I don’t. For too long now, my head has been quietly calculating how many weeks I’ll be, or due dates, or dates I know that I’ll be too upset to do anything.

 

Do you remember what it feels like to just do things for you? I don’t. All of my self-care over the past month, has been because I was trying to take exquisite care of this baby. None of it was for me.  Now that I’ve lost another, I find myself struggling to… care.  I find myself asking – why should I bother? My head knows why, but my heart is too sad to listen at the minute. 

 

I’ve decided it’s time to take a break.  6 months. 12 months. Perhaps indefinitely. I’m not really sure yet.

 

Even just writing those words hurts my heart.  It feels like giving up. It feels like giving in to the possibility that maybe there will never be a third baby for us, but perhaps that’s a reality I need to face. Or maybe just a reality I need to at least accept, in order to find my hope and optimism for life again.

 

I feel like I need to get back to living, rather than waiting.  I need to remember what it feels like to be blissfully happy without the added extra of ‘when we have this baby’ lurking anywhere in the back of my mind. Or even ‘when we fall pregnant’ for that matter.

 

I want to make lists of things I want to do that aren’t determined by whether I’m pregnant or not, whether I have a new baby, or not.

 

I want to remember how to be grateful for everything I already have, which again, my head knows is a lot, but my heart is struggling to feel.

 

So today is a new day. A first step towards hopefully feeling more like me again. I will continue to share here, of course, but I do hope to find a more positive place to share from. Still an honest place, but perhaps a slightly different direction, as I move back towards all those things I’ve put on hold for the last year. There will of course probably still be some writing on the pain of it, after all that’s inevitable, but I also want to refocus on all the good that there is too.

 

As always, thank-you for your endless support.

 

xx

 

If you’re reading this because you’re going through your own journey you may be interested in joining my Facebook Group ‘Healing from loss. Miscarriage and stillbirth support’. It is a place where you are welcome to come and share what is on your heart, though I am hoping to keep the focus on healing.

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