Broken

I am writing this exactly one week after the first post on this blog. Even though I haven’t shared this blog with anyone yet, I hope to be able to share it someday. I contemplated deleting the whole thing, but I decided against it.

Needless to say, a lot has happened in the past week. Part of me is telling me that I shouldn’t be talking about this at all, but the other part of me wants to scream it out to the world. We’ve decided not to tell anyone this for a number of reasons, and as hard as it is for me to type this (maybe because that is what makes it real), I had a miscarriage. I was terrified of this from the start, which is part of the reason why we were waiting to tell people we were pregnant in the first place. I only knew I was pregnant for 9 days, but that doesn’t make this any easier. I have a whole new respect and compassion for any woman (or couple for that matter) who has had to experience this. No one–not your mom, not your sister, not your best friend–truly knows what it is like unless she’s been through it.

Prior to this experience, I knew what a miscarriage was: a non-viable pregnancy. I understood what it meant, and I knew that it wasn’t the mother’s fault, but I didn’t really KNOW. I didn’t know the physical and emotional pain involved (especially the physical) and selfishly, whenever I had heard about people having miscarriages, I never thought much about it. I know that makes me sound like an awful person; I’m sure it does, especially because I’VE HAD FRIENDS GO THROUGH THIS. Whenever I heard of such news, I felt sad for the person, but I didn’t put that much thought into it. I never knew how it could really affect a person. My thoughts are now forever changed. It is big deal and “sad” doesn’t even begin to describe how it feels.

I will not go into the details of how this all came about, especially because I had some other complications which involved more than one trip to the hospital and a lot of unexpected bills, but I am trying to think positively about the upcoming months. It took David and I over six months to get that first positive pregnancy test, but I know we’ll get another one in the future, and I can only hope that it is sooner rather than later. I’m trying not to feel like my body is ruined, though I have had those thoughts. I know it wasn’t my fault. I know there is nothing that I can do. However, I also know that I was able to get pregnant once, and that I will again. Right now, I’m holding on to that hope.

I haven’t been myself, and I’ve been trying to hide at work, so I don’t have to come into contact with too many people–which let’s face it, is impossible. This plan has kind of worked–I’ve just been hanging out in my classroom a lot–but people are still noticing me being quieter than usual. When asked, I try to dodge questions, but I know it is probably still showing through. If you are one of those people who have asked or if you are one of those people who have noticed, I appreciate your concern, and I hope you understand why I couldn’t talk about it at the time.

I feel broken and right now I am just taking it one day at a time. That’s all I can do, and I know that tomorrow is closer to that next pregnancy than today. This, while small, does provide me with some comfort.

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