When life gets hard, my wife builds up a bit of a wall. She says if she starts to cry, she’ll never stop. So she avoids emotional conversations, trying to protect herself. We both know only too well, that hiding all of your emotions and keeping everything in isn’t a good thing in the long run.
My outlet is the blog, which works well for me. A sort of personal therapy! On a rare occasion, Jen lets down her guard and writes things down things that are difficult to voice or admit out loud. Including this, an honest insight into how a pregnant mum feels, whilst waiting to miscarry a much longed for baby:
I wake with my hand on my tummy, as I do every morning. I’m trying to protect it. Even in my sleep. Even though I know it’s too late.
I allow myself just a minute to think about what is happening inside me. The confusion of my own body. Then I begin the obsessive checks. Has the bleeding started? Are there any signs? I take a look in the mirror. Drained and exhausted. My skin still covered in pregnancy spots. My skin hasn’t yet got the memo. Nor have my boobs, that ache like crazy or my ever growing tummy. Why hasn’t my body got the message?
I shower to try and ease the never ending nausea. The reality of another day in emotional limbo is exhausting.
I try to get dressed but nothing fits. My tummy is bloated and can’t stand any pressure against it. I feel sick. I feel fat. I feel ugly. And useless.
Even my own body can’t do the job it’s supposed to do. Why me? Why us? Why again?
So I wait. Will today be the day? Will today be the day we lose another baby? Or will my body keep holding on? Holding on to something that has ‘most probably’ gone?
I want to crawl in to bed and sleep. Sleep until it’s over. The tiredness is overwhelming. But I can’t. Instead I spend another day fighting with my pregnancy symptoms and wondering if every twinge and ache is a sign. Checking for blood constantly. Afraid. Wondering when it will all begin. Again.
Ten weeks is a long time to know you are pregnant. To watch your body changing. To feel all of the symptoms. To hope everything will be ok this time.
But ten days is an ever longer time when you’re waiting for that much wanted pregnancy to end.
Miscarriage is devastating. But it’s the waiting to miscarry, still feeling very pregnant, that’s the cruelest and most lonely part.