I've had so many thoughts running through my head during the last two weeks, and none of them even remotely coherent. But one thing that that seems to keep rearing its ugly head is how much it bothers me that all of this has taken the me from me. Starting with the first miscarriage nearly four years ago.
I know life experiences change you, even the happy ones. I'm a different girl than I was before I met My Beloved - but I like the way that changed me. That's the difference.
Four years of trying and failing and mourning has made me someone who struggles too much and has missed too much.
It's hard to explain.
The last couple of months have been mentally exhausting to say the least, so I didn't have the energy to do what I would otherwise have done. I didn't visit my mom and dad as often as I should have or wanted to. Days passed while I sat in seclusion waiting to miscarry or waiting to hear good news or absorbing bad news or having ultrasounds or making appointments. That's all I could deal with. It's all I could think about. And when I did venture out it took so much effort. I had to put on a good face, answer questions, reassure others, pretend the sky wasn't falling. Pretend to be the me I used to be before hell broke loose.
I haven't supported friends who needed it because it was all I could do to support myself. I missed virtually the entire summer that my sister was off. We had great plans and hardly did any, and when we did it was to distract me. It was always about me.
And I hate that.
I've been on autopilot for what feels like forever.
Somebody asked how I was doing a week or so ago, and I said it's like I'm not quite part of this earth. I can see the beauty in a sunny day, for example, and I can want to be part of it, but I'm outside that bubble of pleasure and joy. I can recognize that it exists but I can't partake in it. I can long for it but I can't have it. Not yet. And not because that's the way I want it, but because that's the way it is.
Multiply this by four separate losses, and this has been my life for the last four years. Obviously losing Thomas took the greatest toll - and still does. And obviously the out-of-body kind of sorrow that is most intense right after a loss hasn't plagued me relentlessly all this time, but enough for me to have intense regrets about what I've missed. About what I should have done. About the time that has slipped away while I've been mourning and healing and mourning again.
And then there are the people who have quietly slipped away while I've been dealing with my losses. Some family, some friends, all quiet as church mice and nowhere in sight. Not a word since I lost the twins - not a word since I knew I was going to lose them. Is it because they can't deal with this much repeated sorrow and drama? Is it because I haven't done enough to keep them part of my life? Is it because out of sight, out of mind is much more comfortable when someone appears to be as cursed as I do? Is it easier for them to wait for the storm to pass? Is it because this has become so routine for me they think I don't need them anymore - that I'm used to it all by now?
Is it because I really am as different as I think I am, and this is what happens when you change so much?
I don't know. Add it to the list of things I just don't know anymore.
So I'm trying to focus on taking back some control. I'm starting Weight Watchers again today, for one. I've gained back 14 pounds since the lap in March and I need to nip this upward trend in the bud. I need to regain control over the body that so stubbornly refuses to be a safe haven for our children. I can make it do this, at least.
And I'm trying to formulate a vague plan for the rest of me. I have some freelance work that should be starting up soon, with any luck, and once those projects are established I'll figure out what else I can fit into my work schedule. And look for more.
As for trying to have more children, I just don't know. I don't know if my heart can take any more loss, and I don't know if my body can take any more trauma. I've been lucky enough to survive two surgeries with frightening complications. Is it tempting fate to risk it one more time? I don't know. We don't know. Not yet. It's too soon to know that yet.
For now it's still about healing and trying to find myself in all this. One more time.
13 comments:
I know what you mean about being outside looking in. I noticed that even when I want to see people, when I invite them over or make plans with them, there is only so much time I can be there in the moment with them, and then I am not, I am looking at them from the outside in.
I am so sorry you are in such a shitty place right now. I am glad you recognize your need to take control of those things you can control and to find you. May these things bring you a measure of peace.
You may know me well enough to know I'm a 'plan' type of gal. It's my nature to take a set of circumstances, pull up my bootstraps, and attack my plan.
I'm so sorry for everything you've been through. I often wonder if I've said enough, or too little. Know that I'm here, as are many others.
I, for one, though, love that you have a plan. You can't control what you can't control. So, you may as well control what you can, right?
I wish it were different, that it was better, or that I could make it better. While we wait for it to get better, know that we're thinking of you much, and loving you always.
The plan is great. You deserve to focus on you right now. The pieces will fall into place at some point.
(((((((HUGS))))))))
I think all of those reasons are true for different people but I pull away because: 1- I don't know what to say. I have been very lucky and haven't had many people in my family die. I've never been in those shoes and I don't know what to say to make someone feel better. 2- When I am upset, I want to be left alone. So, I always try to give space to people who are grieving because that is what I would want.
I think sometimes people disappear because they don't know what else to do. I'm not suggesting that's the best course of action, but I think it is probably real. I think people feel guilty too - for having healthy babies, normal pregnancies, no problems conceiving, etc.
Hang in there.
I've noticed that some people disappear also because they think it is easier for you, when it isn't necessarily so.
You've been through a hell of a lot, and it is a miracle you are still here with your head up.
I know getting my body back into shape was a great part of my life I felt I had somewhat control over.
Hope you come out of the rabbit hole when you are ready.
*hugs*
Not that my virtual support in any way makes up for your friends and family quietly fading away, but I am here and I am not going anywhere. Ever. Period.
Much love and prayers for you.
I'm so sorry some of your family and friends are "fading away." That's so hard to deal with.
::hugs::
I know I am one who hasn't posted to you much. I read faithfully. Your reasons seem valid to me, but in my case it is because I don't know what to say other than life is not fair and I am truly sorry which seems sort of empty to me. It certainly isn't meant that way, but it feels like it to me. I think of you everyday and pray for you, your Beloved, Thomas, and your other children.
Hey the beautiful msfitzia
Your friends and family love you deeply. Some of them just don't know how to be around you.
It's not OK for them to be like that. There's no excuse.
But I am certain that they really do love you.
They are tied up by their own feelings of helplessness, inadequacy and clumsiness. And they should be bigger and stronger than that, but maybe they aren't.
much love and prayers for peace your way...
I have also had 4 years of trying and failing and mourning and I totally get what you mean when you say it has taken the "me" from me. I'm just not the same person and I don't really recognize myself sometimes anymore. I think of it as being kind of frozen in time. Everything else carries on and I seem to be trapped in a loop of conception/loss/mourning etc...
My family and friends have mostly not been able to handle this. I have wondered too, if it's their inability to deal with loss or if it's what they think we want or need. I finally decided that it doesn't much matter to me. I don't need to know the reason. All I know is that they aren't supporting me right now. I just appreciate the ones who are supporting me all the more. I am sorry this is happening to you too, but it seems to be a universal thing (unfortunately). I hope that the ones standing by you give you all that you need right now. I can certainly see by these comments that a great number of people online do care (I hope this gives you the comfort that it gives me).
I am also a lurker here on your blog...I can relate to what you said about how these experiences have taken the "me from me" ~ having had a m/c and 2 stillbirths, I am now no longer the "me" I was 3 years + ago.
I think that people tend to disappear because they just don't know what the heck to do with us, ya know what I mean? We can be/ are overly sensitive, go from crying to crabby in seconds and if they say something that we don't agree with ~ LOOK OUT!
(((HUGS))) to you and I am so sorry for your losses.
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