I’m not over it. Don’t get me wrong I never expected to ever truly get over it. But I thought I would be better than I am. It’s been two months, three weeks and two days since my miscarriage. I would be in my second trimester by now, we would have seen the baby on a scan, we would have heard it’s heartbeat, I would no doubt be showing by now and have a little bump. We would be very nearly finding out if Ivy was to have a brother or a sister and we would have probably told everyone we were pregnant. But we’re not. My brain won’t accept this though. I am constantly counting down the weeks to what could have been or counting back the weeks since it was all taken away from us. Living in the past or the future but not the present.
I’m not very good at sharing my feelings (says me who’s writing a blog post for all of the world to see but this helps). I find it quite hard to open up because I always feel like there are people far worse off than me and why should I complain about my life? I have a wonderful boyfriend and a beautiful daughter with a roof over our heads and food on our table. But every day I feel guilty for not feeling like this is enough. For feeling empty every day. For feeling like something is missing.
After my miscarriage I didn’t have a period until 10 weeks later and I was doing a pregnancy test once a week, sometimes twice, I must have spent a fortune on them. Buying them from different shops so it didn’t look too obvious, like the shop assistants were paying too much attention to little old me! Every time the stick came back negative it was like somebody was stabbing a knife into my heart, over and over again. And then the guilt would kick in all over again for not thinking I had enough. Once my period came the tears came with it. This seemed like the final straw, the full stop to my miscarriage. It had really happened and it was really over.
But this is when I began to realise, it isn’t over emotionally for me, not even a little bit. I want another baby with every fibre of my being but I can’t do this every month. I can’t put myself through this every month. Every time the tightening in my chest comes and I start to heave great big heavy sobs while the tears are never ending. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. For me to admit that is quite a big thing because not only have I inherited my mothers stubborn trait but she gave me her strength as well. I have seen people through loss, I have been through it myself and although my world came crashing down around me each time, I was able to stand tall and be strong for everyone else involved. But this seems different. I feel alone in this.
After this realisation, I sat down with Stuart and I told him everything I was feeling. I think he seemed quite shocked at first because I’m good at hiding it all and keeping it hidden for the sake of him and Ivy. But he agreed. We weren’t enjoying the experience of trying to conceive because of all of these reasons. So we decided I would go back on the pill. Every time I swallow that little tiny pill I feel like I get a little kick to my gut. But I know that this is what is best for us at the moment. I need time. I don’t know how much time just yet but I know I am lucky to have the support from him. We are in this together. And I have to try and look forward to being able to enjoy trying to bring another little Ivy into the world at some point in our future.