Do pregnant women have a sixth sense, a more in-tuned internal barometer? I’m sitting here looking at a note from a fortune cookie I ate about six weeks ago: “The coming months shall bring winds of change in your life.” I distinctly remember how my heart sank for the briefest moment when I first read that – I knew I should not have kept it then. It seemed to cancel out the other fortune I’ve had taped to my computer monitor for the past year or so: “Something wonderful is about to happen to you.”
I held on to the latter thinking eventually it would be true – of course, in my mind the only thing that would qualify as “wonderful” would be my child firmly planted and growing in my womb. And on March 7, 2012, I received the news that finally gave credibility to that worn slip of paper I had clung to all those months. That was one of the happiest days of my life. So quickly followed by “winds of change” to bring me the greatest heartache of my life.
Why have I not written of this experience until now? The nightmare began a month ago. Well, now I believe my spirit is finally ready to accept and examine what my wounded heart wouldn’t let it these past weeks. I realize now that the pressure to be in control and take responsibility for the creation of life is an impossible thing to grasp. That is something I cannot take on.
I know now the tiny embryo that was so hard won was not meant to be the physical vessel to house my baby’s life and soul. And I understand that I am a mother with a love deeper than can be expressed in words, and how my child comes to me matters not. I will continue fighting until that precious life is safe in my arms.
Words carry so much emotion and weight. Fertility. Infertility. Pregnant. MISCARRIAGE. And in one moment, a word can become your reality – or all-consuming existence. And the funny thing is, life continues all around you even when you want nothing more than to command Time to stand still while you wrap your head around your new place in the world. But you have to adapt – isn’t that what we humans do best? You must learn to somehow slip back into that ever-moving world from whence you were so rudely dislodged and merge your new reality with that of the oblivious life around you. Can you do it seamlessly? I know I did not. Can anyone? I would say no, and I cry tears of empathy for the woman who feels she must do so or else face one more layer of failure.
Am I bitter?
Do you love and nurture your children? Do you give to them before thinking of yourself? Do you understand the gift you have been given and cherish it above all? I am not bitter.
For those who neglect, abuse, resent, discard and take for granted, you do not deserve the life that’s been placed in your hands. I am bitter.
So what have I learned? It’s not a question I’ve coherently considered until this point. I know these things have rattled around in my consciousness (and subconsciousness), but can I sort through them?
I held on to the latter thinking eventually it would be true – of course, in my mind the only thing that would qualify as “wonderful” would be my child firmly planted and growing in my womb. And on March 7, 2012, I received the news that finally gave credibility to that worn slip of paper I had clung to all those months. That was one of the happiest days of my life. So quickly followed by “winds of change” to bring me the greatest heartache of my life.
Why have I not written of this experience until now? The nightmare began a month ago. Well, now I believe my spirit is finally ready to accept and examine what my wounded heart wouldn’t let it these past weeks. I realize now that the pressure to be in control and take responsibility for the creation of life is an impossible thing to grasp. That is something I cannot take on.
I know now the tiny embryo that was so hard won was not meant to be the physical vessel to house my baby’s life and soul. And I understand that I am a mother with a love deeper than can be expressed in words, and how my child comes to me matters not. I will continue fighting until that precious life is safe in my arms.
Words carry so much emotion and weight. Fertility. Infertility. Pregnant. MISCARRIAGE. And in one moment, a word can become your reality – or all-consuming existence. And the funny thing is, life continues all around you even when you want nothing more than to command Time to stand still while you wrap your head around your new place in the world. But you have to adapt – isn’t that what we humans do best? You must learn to somehow slip back into that ever-moving world from whence you were so rudely dislodged and merge your new reality with that of the oblivious life around you. Can you do it seamlessly? I know I did not. Can anyone? I would say no, and I cry tears of empathy for the woman who feels she must do so or else face one more layer of failure.
Am I bitter?
Do you love and nurture your children? Do you give to them before thinking of yourself? Do you understand the gift you have been given and cherish it above all? I am not bitter.
For those who neglect, abuse, resent, discard and take for granted, you do not deserve the life that’s been placed in your hands. I am bitter.
So what have I learned? It’s not a question I’ve coherently considered until this point. I know these things have rattled around in my consciousness (and subconsciousness), but can I sort through them?
- My husband longs for a child as deeply as I do, and it’s made me love him in a whole new way. He is also my rock.
- I am not alone – as many women as I know who have beautiful children and haven’t felt the sting – the crushing blow – of miscarriage, I know at least as many who have. And I grieve with them.
- I am an inspiration and symbol of strength to those around me. This one truly blew me away.
- Life is a precious and fragile miracle – sure, we’ve heard it expressed countless times in countless ways, but how many of us really understand what that means?
- Abortion is NOT comparable to miscarriage. Especially miscarriage after the soul-sucking frustration of infertility. I don’t care what your argument is – you will never convince me otherwise after what I have experienced these two long years. To each her own – I have not stood in your shoes nor you in mine – but leave me in peace about this, and I’ll do the same for you.
- I am strong but I am not unbreakable. And once broken, I can be put back together again…and then broken again. (Yes, humans are indeed adaptable.)
- Having something I’ve wanted so desperately dangled in front of me and then ripped from my grasp is infuriating and humbling beyond all measure, but it has magnified and enriched the many amazing experiences, people and facets of my life all the more. What I do not have has given me an appreciation and respect for what I do have that I can’t quite explain.
- Words of comfort and support, while they may not seem very useful to the speaker, are much better spoken than held back. Thank you my dear, dear friends.
- It’s pointless to ask why. I was not meant to understand everything that happens to me. There exist mysteries in life, and one of our greatest challenges as the curious, analytic beings we are is to just go with the flow. Let it be.
- Now on the other side, I still see beauty in the world. I feared I would forever be disenchanted, but the darkness is lifting – slowly but steadily – and life will be fully illuminated once again.
- This could happen again. But if it does, I will have my definitive answer – a message so clear it might as well be screamed at me from all sides – there is a child out there who needs the love and devotion that only my husband and I can offer, and we will give that child – our child – a home and family, and that child will give us the greatest joy of our lives.
- I will heal.
- I will be happy again.
This is not the end.
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