Myth v. Fact

There are so many misconceptions when it comes to how others perceive someone who has miscarried. So, in my mind, here's how they compare.

Myth #1: She has bad feelings or jealousy towards someone who is pregnant.

The truth is, for me at least, I couldn't be more overjoyed for a family member, friend, or colleague who is expecting a miracle. It warms my heart to know they'll get to experience how incredibly life changing the birth of a baby can be. When you go from a "regular" woman who had a "regular" pregnancy and expected another or many more "regular" pregnancies to a woman slapped with the label of "recurrent miscarraiges," all you want is NORMAL! When others hesitate or hold back to share the joyous news of their pregnancy, it makes you feel like someone who can't handle it or doesn't "fit" within the norm anymore..and all we really want is normal. Now, here's the exception...again, for ME at least....stranger lady on the street smoking a cigarette, wailing on a two-year-old, with eyes of sadness, anger, and hatred coupled with a nine month baby bump...yeeeeahh....her, I hate her. Enough said there.

Myth #2: She will want to wait months and months before trying again. 

(I am the author, after all, so these aren't research-based truths.) It's really, really, really, hard to heal from the pain of losing a baby. There aren't words that can justify the pain I have endured. So, why do I keep jumping into the fire? Who knows. I suppose when you want something so badly and your whole being aches for it, you'll do anything. I'd do anything to carry a baby in me again. I'd do anything to feel that bond that the birth experience, breastfeeding experience, etc. can provide. I'd give anything to give Benjamin a baby brother/sister because seeing the way he observes, comforts, and interacts with infants causes a physical pain in my heart.

Myth #3: Don't ask her how she's holding up, she won't want to talk about it.

Maybe at the time, in her particular mood, she won't want to talk. However, the worst thing you can do is pretend it is all okay again and time has passed and she's forgotten and moved on. It's like Groundhog Day...the events and people may change, but at the end of the day, the fact still remains that there's a piece of me that I may never get back.

Fact #1: She will continue to pour every ounce of herself into her work, home, family, and friends, but when everything gets quiet at the end of a day, the pain surfaces like a monster stepping out of the darkness. 


Benjamin, my twenty-five first graders, my husband, my friends, my family....I love to embrace them and do everything in my power to bring joy, happiness, success, laughter, all the GOOD into their lives. But at the end of the day, all of that "stuff" is washed away and I'm left with a longer To-Do list than I started the day with and emotional exhaustion that's off the charts. I have to learn to cool it...

Fact #2: After awhile,doctors are annoying.


It's probably due to where I'm "at" right now, but I'm taking a a much needed break from the medical junk that's been surrounding my body and mind. It's not who I am, it's not who I want to be, and it's not what I believe. I trust that medicine and science can do GREAT things, but I trust more in my God. HE can move mountains, HE can make miracles, HE can carry me when my legs give out. Since there doesn't seem to by a rhyme or reason for my "condition" right now, I'm making the choice NOT to be a Petri dish.

Fact #3: She did not exercise too hard, eat too little protein, drink too much coffee, stress too much over work and life, pick up her 30 lb toddler too much, etc, etc, etc. 


I didn't cause this. I did not decide their destiny. I just didn't. I can wonder "what if" every single day, but I didn't cause this to happen. I am healthy. I am capable. I am okay. I did it once...I have a perfect, smart, healthy almost three-year-old to prove that I can do it. I will do it again.

Weather, politics, celebrities, miscarriage?!?

I'm not sure why so many things in our society are so taboo. You can strike up a conversation with practically anyone on the forecast, upcoming election, or Lindsay Lohan's fiftieth arrest, but start talking about something personal, such as miscarriage, and all of a sudden the room gets quiet, people start fidgeting, and you're just stuck feeling like a moron. It's not like I'd actually go out onto the street and start declaring my feelings and deepest thoughts, but if someone asks how I'm doing now, I'm not afraid to give the raw truth anymore. And, if you know me you're in for a real surprise...I'm a talker. I'm just naturally a person who thrives on human interaction and communication, so talking makes me feel better. I have learned...

•  I don't have to pretend I'm superwoman.

•  I don't have to accept that just because ONE IN THREE pregnancies will fail, mine were loved or wanted any less. 

•  I can call my lost babies "babies," even though many will just see them as embryos, fetal sacs, or biochemical pregnancies.

•  I can be scared to death to get pregnant again, scared to death to go pee for nine months, and scared that no matter how careful and healthy and prayerful I've been, it may happen again. 

• It doesn't have to be a secret or part of my life people don't know about because it is SO much a part of who I am and what I'll be. 

You know that feeling when you're on a roller coaster, going up the hill, and the cars are making that "click-click-click" sound, and you're just waiting, anticipating, wishing you wouldn't have even gotten on in the first place, and then before you know it, you drop...and you start falling, and you can't breathe....but then you get to the bottom, and you start breathing again and it's all okay. That's what it feels like when you're riding the emotional roller coaster of losing something that was part of you for a time. Except sometimes, you keep waiting for that breath, and it just seems to take so damn long. Women have to breathe. A woman who's experiencing a loss needs to breathe. If she can feel comfortable and know that it's okay to talk about what's happening in her mind, soul, body, heart....she'll be able to catch that breath she so desperately has been waiting for.

What not to say...

Please print, fold, and refer to the following list whenever speaking to someone who's experiencing/experienced miscarriage: (J/K, but seriously, make an effort to mentally store it away for future reference.)

1. "Don't worry, it'll all work out eventually..."

2. "There's a reason."

3. "What does the doctor say?"

4. "Why is this happening?" (Gee, as if I know? Like I'm LETTING this happen intentionally!!)

5. "Are you okay?"

6. "Do you think it's because you don't eat meat?" (Don't laugh out loud, a few people have actually said this. Yeah......)

7. "At least you have one child." (I hate this one. Having a perfect, healthy toddler is more of a blessing than I deserve. However, because I grieve and get angered by the losses since him, doesn't mean I love him any less.)

8. "It's nature's way..."

9. "Maybe it's just not your time..." (No kidding?!?!)

And my all time favorite...

"Benjamin, when are Mommy and Daddy going to make you a big brother?!?"


In others' defense, I'm sure I may have even said these things before. (I really, really hope I didn't, but if I did...shit.) I realize that no one really ever knows what to say and honestly, there's really nothing you can say that will make it better or make the pain a little less. But what you can give is the gift of silence or a tear. Crying with, screaming with, and being angry with the person who feels like she's drowning can bring her above the water again. The worst thing you can do is try and offer positive thoughts. I know, that sounds so dumb. It's not that she doesn't want to hear or believe positive thoughts, it's just that hearing those kind, sincere things feels more like knives digging into a wound that can't possibly hurt anymore. She will welcome those positives one day...but just hold off. You'll know it's time to say them when she says them aloud first.

The Need to Grieve

Sent to me by a source I won't name, but instead will just say has carried me even though she's hundreds of miles away. She's my "soul sister" and always knows exactly what to say.

http://mothering.com/pregnancy-birth/the-need-to-grieve-miscarriage

January 29

Part of the mental and emotional exhaustion comes from keeping track of the timing and "what ifs" after miscarriage. So, here's my track record that haunts me from day to day. 

Baby #1: Benjamin Daniel Szczepanski (SO NOT a bad part of my track record...he is so much more of a miracle than I ever imagined.) How or why did God bless me with him? His reasons are bountiful I'm sure, but what I know is that my two-year-old ball of perfectness is giving me more strength than I could ever imagine.

Baby #2: Made it to seven weeks and miscarried naturally. My due date was January 29, 2012...today. Nine months seems so, so long ago. Never did I imagine I'd be grieving the loss instead of celebrating the miracle of a birth.

Baby #3: Miscarried at ten weeks. It was guestimated that his/her heart stopped beating between six and eight weeks. I was due on April 4, my best friend's birthday. 

Baby #4: After a little break and some healing time, we thought, "new year, new beginning, new baby?" Well, guess not. Baby #4 barely made it to five weeks. It is assumed implantation occurred and everything was all good until the placenta got all ticked off and gave up. Awesome.

 

Why a blog?

So, why am I starting a blog? Who would want to document all the sucky feelings and happenings that go along with losing pregnancy after pregnancy? Well, it's not that I want to rehash the emotions every time I sit down to type, but not doing so isn't exactly going to make a difference on how I'm dealing either. There are two main reasons that I can justify for now. First, one day, this "journey" will make sense and I may actually want to be able to "go back" and remember, reflect, whatever. Secondly, a Google search on miscarriage brings up thousands of sites that lead you to medical statistics, research, facts, yadda yadda. Ask anyone who's experienced miscarriage and they'll tell you all that crap is just crap when you feel like crap. Reading the whys and hows just left me feeling even more frustrated, irritated, and hurt. Was there anyone, anything out there that could validate what I was feeling? Yes and no. There are quite a few blogs already that do a pretty nice job of what I hope to do, too. This "idea" was laid upon my heart, and there's really no better reason to do something unless it's in your heart anyway. So, with that, a few disclaimers: 


1. I am not a nurse, doctor, or anyone who has any idea what she's talking about when it comes to the medical/scientific aspect of pregnancy and miscarriage. All I can offer is what I've taken from my doctors. 


2. Love it or hate it, I don't really care. But either way, keep your comments civil and appropriate. I'm not really worried about being offended, but someone who's in an unstable, emotional place might really go all psycho on you if you say something mean. So, just don't be mean. 


3. Now, to be a total hypocrite...I can be mean! No, just kidding. I'm not a mean person, I'm actually a very positive person who still loves life and lives it with passion. But what I can tell you is that the excess baggage of miscarriage can cause some pretty deep, many times negative emotions. The purpose of writing what I write is to help someone out there feel that she isn't alone, and what she's feeling is "okay," and feeling all "I hate the world" doesn't make her a bad person. 


4. Don't feel bad for me. I'm not blogging about miscarriage because I want you to feel bad for me and pity my situation. I have a support system bigger than big and best friends and family who love me beyond measure. So, thank you for your genuine care, concern, and prayer in advance. 


I know I won't be able to post daily, maybe even weekly. My goal is to at least update a few times a month. Then again, I may find that this was all nothing more than a dumb idea and totally scratch the whole thing.