The Elephant

Everywhere I go, people ask, “How are you doing?” I know what they are referring to.  I ecstatically answer, “Great!” and move the conversation in a more comfortable direction.

With the last miscarriage, I had a split desire to talk about it and deny everything that happened.  This time, I am clamming up.  Occasionally I let myself think about it, but for the most part I ignore it.  There is too much hurt to confront right now.  Part of the grieving process is denial.  I guess you could say I’m in that stage right now, and I don’t know when I’ll get out of it.  I don’t know if I want to get out of it.

Talking about this experience with people is not only uncomfortable, it’s impossible.  It’s not that women haven’t experienced miscarriages before, but what often happens is a story sharing experience followed by, “I’m sure you’ll have more soon.”  I understand good intentions–hey, I’m the Queen of Good Intentions–it’s just that I’m too hurt, angry, and bitter to hear these things without saying something sarcastic bordering on caustic.

Not only did we lose a baby, but I am facing the possibility of never having anymore children.  I’m not exaggerating.  So, when people ask about it, I find myself saying bluntly, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

At the same time, everywhere we go, there is this awkward silence followed by rushed conversations. People don’t know what to say and what not to say.  They don’t know whether I’ll be hurt when they mention, “so and so is having a baby,” or if I’ll act angry when they say some consoling remark.

I am the elephant in the room.

Sarcastically speaking, it’s lovely to have this loss right as we are moving.  People wish to say good-bye and I just want to fall into a deep hole with loud music playing–anything to avoid thinking.

I’m learning to hold my tongue, but know that I really really don’t want to talk about it.

P.S.  Since I am responsible for moving, I won’t be around much.  Plus, I’m trying very hard not to slip into a depressive state. It’s hard to comment when everything seems so…bleak.

P.P.S. I miss my kids so much it hurts.  Really hurts.  5 more days.  5 more days.  (Repeat until the emotions die down.)

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10 Comments

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10 responses to “The Elephant

  1. Crank up the music and think about hugging those kiddos in 5 days. And maybe come up with some line you can give everyone that will thank and deflect at the same time, like "I appreciate you asking, but I'm not ready to talk about it. Plus, the move … " and segue into that. Also, when you're ready, we're ready. Until then, carry on however you can and know we're holding you up, still, for as long as you need it.

  2. Tay

    Being alone without the kids is both a relief and a terrible time where you're too alone with your thoughts.

    I pray that Heavenly Father grants you peace in your heart.

  3. d

    ((hugs)) I don't know what else to say – but know that I'm thinking of you.
    Hopefully you will find some healing in the arms of your beautiful children who I'm sure miss you immensely.

  4. I'm sorry. Good intentions and all. I've been on both sides of that one, putting my foot in my mouth so firmly, but so unintentionally. And listening with horror to some reactions.

    So, let's talk about moving! I hate it! So much stuff to do! So many stupid details to keep up with. So, I'll just send the best packing vibes I have and a hope that those five days rush by in a crazy haze of productivity.

  5. I know you know this, but I think it bears repeating: you are entitled to any and every feeling you are having right now.

    I am thinking of you and sending you every good wish.

  6. Nice blogging my friend!

  7. Oh sweetie. I wish I could just reach out and give you a big hug right now. Grief is a black hole of emotion. I am still swirling inside it. In my hand I have a rock. A simple rock. I am giving it to you now. Hold it and know that you are loved. And that your beautiful love touches all of us. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxooxxo

  8. If anything, know that there are good, warm intentions behind all of this and you are loved very much. Being on the other side of uncomfortable situations, I know that it's hard to express care and concern without making the person feel obligated to speak. I wish you all the best in your move and will count down the days until you are back with the kids.

  9. Sending you hugs and love Amber. Embrace what you are feeling. xoxo