Things I Need to Say
10:14 p.m. - 2003-09-14
Sunday.
Today was my first full day at home, and I spent it talking to my parents, resting, and forcing myself to come to terms with what had happened. I've made it through the day without crying, though I still feel an enormous sense of loss and a great deal of sadness.
Yet, after a great deal of contemplation, I realize that I'm glad that this happened when it did. I know that saying that may make me seem cold-hearted, but I don't mean it to be. I may have an inbox full of hate mail for that statement, but it's the honest truth. The child that was growing inside of me was hardly a baby yet (I don't need a lecture from anyone on that, thank you), and I'm grateful that the miscarriage occurred so early on during my pregnancy. There is a definite sadness residing in my heart, but I know that it will heal in time. Though the idea of having a child had already become real in my mind, I never got to hear a heartbeat, and I never felt the baby move. I knew it was there, of course. It was a part of me, and I had already begun making plans for it. We were discussing names and buying books, checking out the costs of cribs and fingering infant clothes, but I hadn't let myself become completely attached to the idea. I was aware of the risks involved, and I knew that the first trimester was going to be a precarious one.
Deep down, I think I knew that this would happen, though I wouldn't allow myself to believe it. Only two days after I found out, I knew something wasn't quite right, even though I had never been pregnant before. Call it intuition if you will, but the feeling was there. I had spoken with my mother, my husband, and my doctor about it, but the M.D. and Alan both seemed to think that everything would progress normally. My mother, on the other hand, while very supportive, still warned me that anything could happen--especially this early on.
This child wasn't planned, and I was quite upset when I found out that I was pregnant, but elation soon took the place of the fear. Every time I saw a onesie or a stroller, I felt a twinge of excitement and happiness. Instead of thinking, "God, I'm glad that's not me" when I saw a pregnant woman, I started to look forward to buying maternity clothes, to feeling the first kicks, and to see my unborn child during an ultrasound.
I could worry myself to death over this--I could fall into a deep depression and mourn for months--but I refuse to do so. I'm doing my best to accept the fact that something wasn't right with my child, and that this was Nature's way of doing the best thing for me and the baby. I thank God that it happened early on, rather than three or four months down the road. I'm thankful that I have a husband who loves me, a supportive family, and a group of friends who have offered their shoulders to cry on and empathetic ears.
My life will go on, I know that. I will have a child, and it will be happy, and healthy, and able to have a normal life. Millions of women experience miscarriages every day, and some of them deal with it more than once. I can only pray that this will be the only one that I have to go through.
For now, all I know to do is to try and keep my chin up. I need to get in better shape, I need to start exercising, and I need to wait a while (at least a year, I imagine) before I even think of getting pregnant again. I need time to process what has happened, and I need to get my life straight and keep it that way.
I plan to stop drinking (I already have, actually) and I intend to get fit. I am going to get my priorities straight. I will get my home in order, together we will manage to get our finances under control, and I intend to work as hard as I can to do a good job as a teacher. I'll stop smoking entirely. (With all that has transpired, I regret to say that I've started back, but I will stop soon.) I plan to take each day as it comes, and to try and be the best person that I can be. I plan to stay off drugs (after my pain meds run out, my system will be clean again), and I will become more focused on my spirituality. I need to attend to the things that are truly important in my life--my husband, my home, my career, my beliefs--and when the time is right, I WILL have a child. I just know it.
I have another appointment with the doctor on Tuesday, and I will get back on birth control. I am going to start keeping track of my menstrual cycle, and I am going to be fully prepared when I decide that I'm ready to try this again.
I plan to return to work on Wednesday, and I'm quite nervous about that. I don't know what I'll tell my students, and I'm not sure how I'll handle the chaos that has probably taken over my classroom during my absence. I'm staying with my parents until then, because the doctors didn't think it was a good idea for me to be alone (in case something were to go wrong, you know). We'll see how things go.
For those of you who have signed my guestbook and sent me emails, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It never ceases to amaze me just how much online friends truly mean to one another. Though I've never met most of you, you are a life line that I cling dearly to for support. You are all wonderful, kind-hearted people, and the fact that you keep up with my life and offer support via the Internet means more than you can possibly imagine. There have been a few people (in my "real" life) that have actually suggested that I stop writing here, and for a split second, I debated whether or not they were right. I expose so much of myself in this journal...and though there are very few people that know me in real life that are aware of it, there is always a chance that someone will find it.
But don't worry, because I refuse to stop writing here. It's a balm to my soul to be able to get my thoughts out on this page, and I consider all of you that read it to be close friends.
It's been nearly a year since I began sharing my life here at Diaryland, and I have gained some of the most incredible friendships that I've ever known. I will not stop my journey here, regardless of what others say.
I suppose that more than anything, I'm saying "Thank you." Thank you for reading, for sharing, and for becoming such an integral part of my life. There is a special place in my heart for each of you, and there's no way in hell that I'm going to give that up.
All my love,
A.