This time last year I was trying to deal with my first miscarriage. Since then I have gone through that horrific experience for a second time, and I didn’t expect it to be harder. I also didn’t expect how much time it would take to dig through all the layers of feelings and issues I would have with anything with even the slightest connotation of children.
I recently realised that I’d been hanging onto a lot of guilt, because I blamed myself for my second miscarriage. I had experienced a far more physically traumatic time of it but the thing I remembered so strongly was the pressure and the need to push. This won’t necessarily make sense to guys, but the only way I can explain is discomfort, the feeling that I was blocked and I couldn’t lie still. For four hours I struggled, not knowing what was happening, whether it was normal, and what I should be doing.
Eventually I started bleeding and that pushing released what was my baby. Nothing will ever really describe the feeling that you’ve pushed your child out of your body – mothers will tell you that with the joy that only birth can bring. That wasn’t my experience because it was birth, it was death.
Letting go of this guilt, now I’ve accepted that I was keeping it locked up, is allowing me to properly question the fear I’ve been feeling for the past 6 months.
Any idea of me getting pregnant petrified me, the idea of having children at all suddenly took a big turn and started to feel like something that would hold my life back rather than having a priority place within it. I felt much too young, much less in control, much too ambitious to have children. The world started to feel like a bad place in which to bring a new life, money was just not enough to pay the bills, everything far too overwhelming alongside the idea of a child. And what if my child had a disability, or was ill, or I just couldn’t cope. I could barely cope with the thoughts.
Bear wants children, he always has, and he is broody most of the time. He would never push but what if I figured out that I couldn’t cope with children? We’d got married having known where we stood in that regard, could I keep him in a relationship that he might resent when we were old and childless when that was never part of the plan?
Actually a lot of these questions were covering for the bigger one: will I kill my next baby? Will I be able to hold onto them long enough to hear them cry? If I can’t even have children, should I even try if it just brings more pain?
Accepting this deeper layer, and understanding my subconscious reasoning makes it far easier to handle. I am finding it easier to think about, easier to think of the future at all, easier to deal with the broad topic of children, families and parenthood. Understanding how fear had been effecting me has been freeing. There is a long way to go but I’m getting there, and digging through the layers has been useful.
I didn’t expect it to take this long to feel OK, but I guess this is just proof that recovery isn’t something you can plan, grief isn’t easy or quick, and none of this is the same for everyone that goes through it. I pray I don’t go through this all again any time soon, but on the other hand I hope I can show myself a little more grace in dealing with it.