To say yesterday was rough would be a complete understatement. All of my strong resolve just broke and I finally cried my soul out.
But before that my pre-schooler had a complete meltdown when my husband tried to take him to his first day of school. Probably due to me not being there as much as the fact that we had a super late night getting home the day before. So I’m between all of my tears and pain and grief I had to come up with an incentive plan that would help him want to try again the next day.
Then I ended up in a fight with my husband. I probably haven’t felt so far away from him before, but this current loss is driving a wedge between us in a way previous losses and IF did not. I feel so alone and not at all understood. He doesn’t see that it’s not a cut and dry thing...it didn’t happen one day and the next day is fine. It’s lonely over here.
Putting my youngest to bed last night something triggered me and I just lost it. I lost every shred of any kind of hold I had on the situation, and I broke down in hysterical sobs on my baby boys head with my arms wrapped around him, my tears soaking his head and pillow. And he turned toward me and wrapped his tiny arms around my neck and patted my back and i just lost it even more, until finally I had cried myself to sleep.
Scared I was going to miss a dose of medicine and wake up in excruciating pain again, I woke twice in the middle of the night to take more medicine. I woke up this morning with a massive migraine, and my eyes so puffy and swollen I looked on the outside how I felt on the inside. I managed to get myself and 2 boys together enough to try going to pre-school again. On the way out the door baby boy puked up some milk with a burp right on to the kitchen floor. I feel him and he feels warm but doesn’t have a fever. We make it through preschool drop off with no issues. (Thanks to a School Chart we made with frownyand smiley faces for good drop off days and bad, and the promise that I’m good days he gets some electronics time when he gets home) but as I am buckling Baby boy back in to his seat realized he was about to puke and quickly unbuckled him but didn’t get him out before he puked curdled milk up all over himself. So I knew at that point he probably had a fever now, because the only time he puked up curdled milk is when he has spiked a fever. So we got home and I cleaned him up and checked his temp and sure enough he now had a fever. I gave him some Motrin and also a Zofran dissolve-able left over from a stomach bug, because he has a terrible hah reflex and once he starts liking he can’t stop. We rested on the couch together for a while before he peeked up and drank some water and ate a banana and a popsicle. (Basically whatever he wanted that he could keep down.) Mr. Preschool had a great day and it was so sweet to see my little boys hugging each other because they missed each other.
When I am feeling really emotional about something it helps me if I can try and identify exactly what is causing my feelings, so I have been reflecting on this a lot over the last week but especially the last couple of days. And I guess it comes down to a couple of things. One thing is that I have living, physical proof of what this loss (and my others) have taken away from me. I love my kids so hard and so much that it physically hurts. I don’t really remember my other losses hitting me quite like this, physically or emotionally. At least not on this scale. And I have been searching for why it feels this way this time. And I realized that it is because before, I had the hope of maybe one day having the chance to have it happen again, to experience another pregnancy. And this time, I feel like it was my final chance at that. By the time this is ever all said and done, it’s very unlikely that I will get the chance again. And suddenly the finality of this part of my life seems so much more clear. When I left pursuing a pregnancy it was always kind of open ended, and even though it was definitely not on my radar when this surprised happened, after the initial shock it was embraced and felt like that one last chance, and now that chance is gone and with it the hope of anything ever again.
Which also makes me reflect on the question of Is it worth it? Is it worth the risk of experiencing this kind of loss again for the chance to do it all over one more time. I thought about this a lot yesterday as I sat in my closet surrounded by baby items that either wouldn’t fit or were too fragile to be stored in the attic...things like nursing pillows, silly baby wraps, breast pumps, part of the bassinet and pack and play. And I couldn’t help but look at it all and thinking what a waste, to have all of this and have no use for it. And part of me was so angry I wanted to pack it all up and get rid of it right then and there, but I am far too emotional to make any rash decisions, I know this about myself. But then I kept going back to Is is worth it? Anything worth having is worth it, right? I’m not so sure. I miss the days of being naive to all of this, the loss, the difficulty of it all. I know that any subsequent pregnancy( should that ever happen) will be drought with worry. Loss took away my ability to really relax into and enjoy being pregnant, even after making it to term with #4, I was still always holding my breathe with #5, up until the very end when they pulled him out, and even every single day since. Loss has already given me extreme anxiety around all things pregnancy and baby. But is it worth it? If I had to go through this loss to get to the next one and ended up with a healthy baby next time, then yes, I would say it was all worth it. Of course. But. But, But, BUT. Is it worth my heart and soul to go back and keep trying, at my age, for the ending I want? Is it worth all of the heartache to get there, again, If I’m lucky, to have this happen again, or worse even? No. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth all of the TTC anxiety, it’s not worth all the early pregnancy ambiguous-ness and stress, it’s not worth first trimester sickness to end up where I am now. I even thought, well, heck, you could just skip all of the first trimester bloodwork and scans and just stick your head in the sand until 12 weeks or whatever...but no, I couldn’t. Because if I had done that this time, I would just now be finding out That something was wrong and that I was going to miscarry, when I should be close to exiting my first trimester. That wouldn’t have been better at all. And then I would have the guilt of what if I could have done something to change the outcome if I had known, like more progesterone or something. I know that if this happened again I would definitely have a D&C, as opposed as I am to surgery. I don’t think I would choose to go through this this way again.
So I guess 36 hours after my world turned upside down again I have realized that it all comes down to a finality I haven’t wanted to face, and ending to things in a way I would never want them to end. Of what it’s like when you start to refocus your life and are dealt with a surprise that makes you turn around and change course, only to have it all upended once again and stare the ending in the face, and what that does to your heart. What it has done to my heart. And how it feels like nothing wil ever be the same again. Forever changed by a baby that never got to be, but somehow had a place here that made it all feel so totally complete, even for a very short time.