Misadventures Of An Average Mom

Because Average is the New Awesome!

I’m not okay…

on May 1, 2015

You know how simple (and overused) the questions “How are you? Are you doing okay? How is your day?” are? They are your very basic greeting. Family ask them. Friends. The grocery store clerk all ask “and how are you doing today?”. The problem lies in when you are not okay. And, I am NOT okay. That is a surprisingly hard thing for me to vocalize because I have always been one to push on through and be fine. I’m not fine. The thing is, people don’t want you to tell them you aren’t okay. The grocery store checker asks how your day is going but the last thing they want to hear is that it is complete shit. Not only that day, but all of the days leading up to it for a week. They get an awkward tone and say something along the lines of “I’m sorry to hear that” or [over cheerfully] “I sure hope it starts to get better for you!” or worse yet just a simple “…oh….”.

The thing is I am just not okay. I want my baby. It is the only thing I can think of. Everything and nothing all at the same time are reminders of my loss. I start to cry and usually just start maniacally repeating through strained breath: “I want it back, I want it back, I want it back”. I know that isn’t how things work and I know that can’t happen. But it’s true. I just want my baby back.

I keep trying to convince myself I should be better and expedite any grief processes and rationalize why I should even feel that way. I was in the first trimester and I had only known with certainty for a week. Most pregnancies end in miscarriage. I was petrified at the idea of a third kid in the first place. None of these make it okay. None of these excuse that it happened. If anything they make it worse. I was supposed to be almost done with my first trimester. My baby had arms, its fingers were all separated and had fingernails. It was the size of a kumquat and was 1.25 inches long. It was a real tiny baby. Had its little heart not stopped beating at that almost 10 week mark it should have been bigger. It should have been more. It should still be there now.

Between the “normal” grief process and the hormones that have been building up for 12 weeks, internally I am a mess. I haven’t even been trying that hard to hide it on the outside. I am currently existing. I do the normal routine. I get the kids ready for school. I do laundry, dishes, clean the house, took out the trash, and I have even been weeding the gardens. But I don’t laugh. I don’t even smile. I don’t care.

I want this baby back. Although I have had the thoughts: “maybe we could have another one” and the “I didn’t think it was possible since I have always suffered with infertility, but now maybe it can happen”… It doesn’t mean I want one. I wanted this one. This was my miracle. This was my baby that wasn’t supposed to be possible but somehow managed. Before it didn’t anyway. This was supposed to be the third child I always wanted.

And then I blame myself for that. I didn’t know. I didn’t think I could have one so I didn’t do or avoid everything I should have. I have been thinking of all of the many ways I am completely responsible for its death. I drank too much coffee. I pushed myself too hard exercising. I had a cold with a fever for a couple of days back in early March. I had 6 glasses of wine between conception and… end. I took a medication that I shouldn’t have because the doctor told me to take it since I didn’t know.

I have so many thoughts within any given minute that I can’t even separate them out anymore before becoming a puddle. The what if’s and what could have been’s and just the why’s. Why did God give me such an amazing and wonderful gift just to take it away so quickly. What lesson am I supposed to learn from this? If everything happens for a reason, what ultimate outcome does this play a part in?

I know there is no time limit on it and no one is pressuring me to be myself, yet. But I feel the looming presence of it there. I feel like everyone wants me to just miraculously be my normal self. It shouldn’t be a big deal since it was an early pregnancy loss so I should be okay soon. I’m not. I am not okay.

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