A little lost

Amongst all the dark and despair I’ve been feeling, there has been a bright spot – the love I have received not only from my family and friends but also you, my online family.

Your words of sorrow, encouragement and understanding have helped me more than you know.

I know I am not alone in this, although I still feel lost. My journey to accepting this loss, myself, my body is one where there is no right or wrong, no map, no guide. And it scares me. I want to be ok. I want to have hope. I want to no longer feel raw and exposed. I want to not be mad at the world, at God for putting us through so much pain when he seemingly lets anyone else pop out babies at the drop of a hat.

But I’m not there. I know, it’s only Thursday. Two days after I learned what I most feared, but it seems a lifetime ago. Tuesday morning I still had plans, still had a smile, I had hopes my due date would be my birthday.

Now I worry that for two consecutive years my birthday will be marred by the what-could-have-beens. Last year, my present was a methotrexate shot. This year, obviously, a due date never meant to be.

And it’s so hard. My head is telling me that it wasn’t a healthy pregnancy, it wasn’t viable and this is for the best. My heart, still covered by a network of blue veins, aches for what might have been. Then the fear creeps in too. The worry that we will never be parents.

I know it’s silly but to have the rug pulled from you twice in six months leaves my legs wobbly and without much ground to stand on. My mind races to think of who I could get to be a surrogate. And a free one at that because this has already put us into debt up to our eyeballs.

All this worry. About chromosomes. About money. About surrogacy.

And all I should be doing is grieving. And drinking mass quantities of alcohol and stuffing myself with chocolate. Ok, so there is still a little bit of the snarky me left.

It’s just I wish I could have that guarantee that everything will be ok, it will all work out. For now, I guess I will just have to trust my husband that our empty third bedroom is not the place I dubbed “The room where dreams die,” but the nursery that will one day be filled with the cries and laughter of our child.

One day can’t come soon enough.

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17 Responses to “A little lost”

  1. maria Says:

    OMG, that’s so true…one day can’t come soon enough. Grief is not a fun thing, it’s still kicking my butt and my loss wasn’t even close to as hard as yours. I’ll have good days, and then, like yesterday, I’ll have really bad days. Days that fill me with fear, panic and anxiety. Where I feel like I can’t even leave the house. But then today is a better day. The ups and downs are draining, but I know soon enough, the ups will out weigh the downs.

    I’m still thinking about you and praying for your heart to heal.

    XOXO

  2. She Likes Purple Says:

    I hear you, I hear you, I hear you.

    I bought these monkey shoes ages ago, when we first started trying, because they were $1 and I loved them. And I look at them, sitting on our back table, and think, “What am I doing? Why do I have those? I’ll never have feet to put in them.” And it rips me apart. I tell Mike I’m going to give them away. And he says, “No. We’ll need them soon.”

    But when. My god when?

    I hope you know you’re not alone. But you’re allowed to feel as alone, as angry, as pissed off, as slighted as you want/need. Nothing you’re feeling is wrong.

    And we’re all just praying/thinking/hoping for you.

  3. Lori Says:

    It is such a dark night of the soul, this journey through grief and despair.

    I was mad at god for a very long time.

    The sun does shine again. And chocolate does help. 🙂

  4. SaraS-P Says:

    Drink as much alcohol and eat as much chocolate as you want. No one should have to know this disappointment.

    Thanks for stopping by my blog. It gets a little crazy there at times, but I do spend a good bit of time lamenting what could have been. I still haven’t figured out how best to deal with heartache and disappointment, but I know having support sure helps.

  5. Serenity Says:

    Oh hon. You’re SO not alone in this. The worry, the uncertainty… it’s the worst part. You’ve gone through a lot – how CAN you keep the hope up?

    Hang on
    Hang on
    When all is shattered
    When all your hope is gone
    Who knows
    How long
    There is a twilight
    A nighttime and a dawn

    Be brave
    Be proud
    Hold my hand
    Pretend
    When your hope is gone
    So hang on
    Hang on

    We’re here for you – to help you stand when your legs are wobbly. In the meantime, chocolate, wine… whatever it takes to help you cope.

    *hug* I’m thinking of you.

  6. Katie Says:

    I’m sorry. I know how tough it is. Thinking of you and hoping for some healing.

  7. JuliaS Says:

    I know from experience it does get better, but the waiting is the hardest part. Seems like that is all we do sometimes isn’t it? Wait . . .

    Just noticed you live in Colorado – I grew up there. :0) Graduated from a small high school in Manitou Springs. I live in Missouri now. I bet the mountains are gorgeous right now – my parents still live right there at the Peak.

    Good wishes.

  8. maryanne Says:

    Jen – I am so sorry for your loss. I hope your days continue to get a little bit better!

  9. Road Blocks and Roller Coasters Says:

    Trust me when I say, I know just how you feel. I could not go into that bedroom for months after my m/c and still refuse to keep the door open for fear of bad luck. It will happen Jen, I know that it will. And I am praying that your someday comes as soon as possible. Lots of HUGS.

  10. millie Says:

    You are far from alone. I wish I could speed up your journey or tell you how it will happen but all I can really do is follow along beside you and be here.

    That bedroom will become a nursery. But for now drink up and pass the chocolate.

  11. Sue Says:

    I am so sorry you are going through this. You are not alone, we are all thinking of you and pulling for this to happen for you.

  12. Erica Says:

    I wish I had words that could help. But I don’t. I just want to offer a hug, or a shoulder to cry on. Take your time. Mourn your loss. It’s not an easy road, but you will get to where you want to be. And we’ll be with you the whole time.

  13. Ahuva Batya Says:

    I am in tears for you. There’s nothing much else I can say, other than I send out strength to you to get through this and move forward to what life has in store for you, which I hope in my heart is a bouncing baby.

  14. Denise Says:

    We can certainly indulge in some chocolate Saturday if you are up to having some company for a bit. I wonder if they serve alcohol at 10am?

  15. luna Says:

    so sorry. you are not alone. it does suck, that feeling of despair. the rest of us can hold your hope until you’re ready. ~luna

  16. Bea Says:

    Just coming along from L&F to say I wish I could give you that guarantee, if not undo all the bad stuff that’s happened already.

    Bea

  17. Claire Says:

    Oh, I’m so sorry for you loss!! Hang in there sweetie!

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