Hello, Goodbye

I really enjoy choosing titles that have dual meanings.  Like this one.  It’s me saying good-bye to Nablopomo, officially (and early, again).  It also means saying good-bye to something else that many of you weren’t even informed of yet.

Hello Pregnancy

I found myself unexpectedly pregnant a few weeks ago.  As this would be our fourth attempt at a third baby, I was quite pessimistic about the outcome.  However, my body gave me many indications that this one would stick: I was horribly sick; I started losing weight (from sickness); my back, hips, and, well, everything ached all day long; I was excessively emotional–crying, laughing, angry, and sassy;  and my bladder did not have much room (that’s a nice way of saying I was peeing constantly).

After a couple weeks of this, with things gradually progressing as they should, I even allowed hope to slip under my blanket of negativity.  My husband and I started considering names and other exciting things (like how we would do the birth, where we would place the baby, etc).

Goodbye Baby

Everything changed on Tuesday night.  Unexpectedly, I started spotting.  Now, spotting doesn’t necessarily indicate miscarriage; however, in my case, it has always led to more bleeding and, eventually, miscarriage.  So when I saw that, after having a great evening with my husband, everything fell apart.  I fell apart.  Deep within in my heart, a sob rose.  When it released, it took me a while to realize it was coming from my mouth.

The next morning, I made the split-second decision to go to work anyway.  I knew that I was miscarrying and I couldn’t stand the thought of staying home with nothing to do.  As expected, I started bleeding heavily with a bit of cramping.  I only broke down once the whole day–that is, until I went home.  I ended up falling asleep at 8 pm.

As for today, everything intensified.  I had to leave work because pain medicine was not working.

Emotionally, I just don’t know how I feel.  I do feel the typical anger, sadness, betrayal, and bitterness.  But I phase through each so rapidly that it’s hard to determine how I am feeling at any point.

I do have a general sense that nothing is right in my world.  To explain what I mean by that would be impossible, but I suppose it accurately represents how upside down and inside out I feel.  Or, as a good friend said, disbelief and denial.  Like I am living a nightmare that  I will hopefully wake up from soon.

Fantastical thinking, I know.

And there you have it.  The cold, hard truth.

On that note, I will not be closing the comments this time; however, I will not be responding to any correspondence yet.  Maybe over the month I will find the energy to do so.  Right now I am just trying to live and not fall into a hole of despair.  So. Yeah.  That’s all I have.



Filed under miscarriage

18 responses to “Hello, Goodbye

  1. Oh, friend. I am so sorry.

  2. Thinking of you! xoxo

  3. Damn it all. Just damn it. I’m so sorry.

  4. ShannonL

    So, so sorry, my friend. Thinking of you and sending big hugs! xo

  5. Laura J.

    Suck! My heart aches for you, friend. I’m very sorry that you find yourself at this awful place again.

  6. Boooo. I’m so sorry. I think you need a nice Snuggie to wrap up in.

  7. Elizabeth P.

    Oh Amber, my heart aches for you and Ben! Sending many hugs your way!

  8. Tay

    Damn it. I wish I could express in words what I am feeling. ‘Damn it’ is about as close as it gets.

    Amber, I am sending love your way. I think about you often and will continue to do so.

  9. Amber, what a courageous, honest post. I am thinking of you and yours.

  10. I’m so sorry for your loss.

  11. I am so sorry, my friend. So, so sorry. Much love to you and Ben.

  12. If I lived close to you, I would say it was time for a good girls night out: movie, ice cream, cozy couches, and warm blankets. Love you!

  13. Hang in there…. So sorry your hopes have been dashed so many times.

  14. You put it perfectly, and just as I remember it, as a nightmare that you can’t seem to get out of. All I can say, if it’s any help at all, is that looking back, I’ve had to hit rock bottom on every single thing in my life, from babies to religion to my book – everything. Knocked down over and over again. The difference turns out to be in getting up one more time than I was knocked down.
    Love you, Amber, and I’m sorry. Linda

  15. Grief is so real. I don’t think it matters how many times we may experience similar losses (or try to adjust, again, to losses we have already experienced but that keep affecting our lives), it surprises me how intensely it can show its face when having to face loss again.

    I’m so sorry for your loss, and I grieve with you. I also understand how the layers that come with repeated loss (and also with health/body issues) can, in many ways, make facing it again all the harder in many ways.

    Keep kissing those silly little ones and that dear husband of yours, and know that you have people who care thinking about you.