I’m escaping to Los Angeles for the night to see a friend who is driving down from San Francisco. It’ll be my first solo road trip, and I plan on blaring music the whole way. My friend, P., is a therapist, so although I will be able to talk to him freely about life events over the past few months, I want to get some things off my chest before I leave in a few hours’ time.
Namely, I feel very isolated in my experience.
First of all, I don’t have many friends in San Diego, because I moved here fairly recently. There’s no circle of friends who I can call up and go out or stay in with. So I rely on old friendships with people who live thousands of miles and usually a few time zones away. Even those women who have miscarried in the past have stopped asking me how I am. Some even go so far as to ask me for help with their problems, but don’t even ask how I’m holding up. I’m trying to stop my heart from bitterly hardening towards them and try to be at peace with the fact that very few people give a shit about other people. And why should they? People have their own problems. People are busy with their kids. It just hurts to learn that people — friends as well as family members — who you thought would be more supportive are not. The old adage A friend in need is a friend indeed has never stared me so squarely in the face.
So I rely on new online relationships with women who know what it is to lose a pregnancy and who have experienced the grief, the shock, the gaping hole that threatens to swallow us up. I value our raw and intimate conversations.
But I’m feeling alone because no one I know is going through or has gone through my experience. The people I talk to have either never had a miscarriage, or struggling to get pregnant in the first place, or have lost a pregnancy but already have a child or children. I don’t deny the despair and feelings of loss over the latter two experiences, because they are each heart-breaking in their own way. It’s just that my heart does feel slightly disappointed when I learn that a grieving woman is already a mother because I haven’t met anyone (IRL or online) who knows the despair of wondering if she’ll ever become a mother. I’m neither a member of the infertility club, nor the recurrent losses club, nor the stillbirth club, nor the women-who-have-miscarried-but-are-already-mothers club. The group I belong to has few members — trust me, I keep my eyes peeled — and maybe that’s a good thing? It’s just that there’s no one wearing a similar pair of shoes as me, and right now I wish I had someone to talk to who knows exactly what I’m going through.
Add to this that I’m concerned about my thyroid test results. Do I have hypothyroidism? Is it symptomatic of something more serious like Hashimoto’s Disease? Is a lack of symptoms a good sign? Was it induced by pregnancy? Did it cause me to lose Bean? Will I have to take a pill every day for the rest of my life? Will this cause problems for getting health insurance in the future?
Mostly I’m just sad. See, by now I was hoping to have my two advised post-miscarriage menstrual cycles behind me so we could start TTC again. I was hoping to be looking forward (albeit with some trepidation…) about TTC again. I was hoping to be pregnant by the time my niece/nephew is born so I can celebrate the occasion instead of dread it.
Instead, it’s a shitty roll of the dice. Not even a sign that I can expect my period soon. Just, wait another 3 weeks and then we’ll do more tests. Not, in three weeks’ time you’ll be fine. No green light to TTC. Nothing.
And even then, I remind myself darkly, I bet all I have to look forward to is temping every morning only to get my period month after long-cycle-thanks-to-post-miscarriage-fucked-up-thyroid month. NOTHING HAS GONE RIGHT. NOTHING! And I’m so very frightened.
I’m dealing with loss on top of loss on top of loss on top of loss. It’s relentless and terrifying. I’m exhausted and want a break. But I’m riding a crazy train and it shows no sign of slowing down any time soon. Fat fucking chance.
Oh Lauren! This loneliness sucks, doesn’t it? I am so tired of hearing “at least you know you can get pregnant”.
I wish I had the magic answer. Instead I want to thank you for offering a public forum for people going through this is not feel so alone! It sure is helping me.
Hello, I have been where you were, struggling for months to try and finally make that second blue line on the stick only to loose the baby. The months that followed were excruciating. It takes time to heal and you are allowed to take the time you need. And it is true that lots of others out there can’t understand exactly what you feel like, exactly how far along you were in your pregnancy, exactly how how agonizing it felt for each and every cramp. Even my husband, who held my hand through our loss will never understand the wrenching pain of feeling the loss of our child.
And then does it get easier? parts will and parts won’t. When you trust your body and no longer feel like it betrayed you you will start to try again. But the pain will hit you at every anniversary, the due date, Christmas, family gatherings every time you imagined your life with your baby in your arms it will come back to haunt you. Then when you get pregnant again you won’t trust your body. You won’t be sure that it won’t betray you again. This is the legacy I was left with.
One day when you hold your baby in your arms, at the end of this journey you will still mourn the angels that didn’t make the trip. That is the nature of a mother.
I understand your pain and am happy to listen to you anytime you need it. Sending you hugs.
That is the best way to describe it…I lost one 27 years ago and I still think about him/her.
Oh, what a good way to put it, “The Legacy”. It sucks, doesn’t it? Thank you for listening / commenting. I appreciate your kindness x
Completely sucks. That’s exactly what my RE said to me about my miscarriage and it was the absolute right thing to have said. Give yourself time. It takes ages for the rawness to go away.
I’ve ruminated a lot on the tendancy we all seem to have to wish not to be ‘alone’, but to also find ways to differentiate our experiences from those of others. I know, because I do it too…I’ll think to myself (I admit): ‘it’s nice of her to offer support, but how could she possibly know, she hasn’t been through *this*’. I have to consciously remind myself sometimes that we each of us in the ALI community (and beyond, though I have more difficulty relating to that) we have our own situations, that each one is a study in loss, and grieving, and mending, and trying (often clumsily) to reach out, to be heard, to listen and offer support. I think maybe it’s human nature, especially when we are in the grip of such anguish, to see our experiences as singular, and at the same time, to want others to understand, to be part of them. And I think it’s especially hard with miscarriage, because I truly think that in our society, until you’ve been through it, its impossible to imagine the depth of pain and grief that it can provoke. It’s a shock to the system.
So I totally get where you’re coming from, and I too have undergone a long (and often painful) process of finding peace with the fact that people don’t care about other people. Except sometimes, they do. I may not be in the very same situation as you, but I care about you and your feelings Lauren. Please know that you can always reach out, to discuss anything. I’ll keep wondering how you are doing. I’ll keep being angry with you that it’s all so fucking unfair and frustrating. It’s not the same as having people in real life, but I think in a lot of ways I have gained so much more from this online community than from my family and friends outside it, because in one way or another, they just get it. There are many of us, sadly, who know the despair of wondering if we’ll ever become mothers. I’m sorry you’re there right now too. For what it’s worth, I have a lot of hope for you. Sending love.
Oh, Sadie, I feel so *understood* by you! Thank you for this thought-provoking comment.
I think part of my problem is that I have always been an outsider — wherever I’ve lived — and for the most part I have embraced that. I guess that becomes difficult when confronted with loss. Yes, every experience is different, no matter the similarities. Every man is an island, and yet we are all united in our grief and fears.
I care about you too. Funny, seeing as how we’ve never met! This online community of women is certainly a gift. I wish we had met under happier circumstances, but I am glad we have met at all.
And it goes without saying, please email or reach out to me any time you would like to. Much love xo
I’m so sorry for how you’re feeling- the place that you’re in. I think one of the hardest things about the infertility mess, the miscarriage mess, is that time. Stands. Still. It’s really true- time flies when you’re having fun- and the opposite- when you’re NOT having fun… I wish I had something useful to say but I can’t think of anything… It’s a lonely road (and I’ve also been practicing acceptance that people mostly don’t give a crap about people other than themselves, and to try not to take it personally..) I recall telling my infertility group about my 13 week miscarriage the week after it happened, and there were plenty who said Nothing to me, but posted regular things about their lives and it was kind of stunning- I wanted to shout ‘did you NOT see that I had a 13 week miscarriage and D and E the day before my birthday?!’ And you’re just talking about what stupid baptism gown to buy!? Who CARES?! Can’t you see the earth has stopped spinning ?! But it hasn’t for them- only my world had stopped…
Denise, I’m so touched you reached out. So many people don’t because they think they have nothing useful to say — but they do, and you did!
I’m so sorry for your loss. Was it recent? Have you written about it? (If you haven’t and would like to without committing to starting a blog, feel free to post your story on my Who Are You? page.) And I’m really sorry that the one place online you should have received a ton of support let you down. That’s just awful! Check out my blogroll and get to know some of the bloggers there. They’re a lovely group of women who will welcome you with open arms!
Holding your hand, comrade xo
Road trips and blaring music = HEAVEN
Exactly what you described in terms of trying to be a parent (biologically or otherwise) is what makes this shit so hard: The unknown. “Wait three weeks, and we’ll do more tests.” You’re right…it’s ridiculously difficult to live with that.
Wishing you moments of smiles in whatever way they find you.
ICLW#18
Thank you, Maria. I guess you too know what it’s like to live in limbo… :( Wishing you all good things! (BTW, I love that you named your blog after that wonderful Oscar Wilde quotation. It’s one of my favourites!) x
I am sorry you feel so alone. Dealing with miscarriage and the aftermath of despair, is one of the most painfully lonely experiences of my entire life. The fear that it will happen again, that a new pregnancy won’t ever be achieved, that your body will never be whole, are all feelings that are crippling and hard to deal with. When I lost my twin girls I felt like no one had ever walked in my shoes; that no one could understand my pain and then I thought very hard about how I had dealt with friends who had miscarriages before me. I realised that I certainly hadn’t been perfect. Sometimes I think it is hard for those around us to deal with the extreme grief that miscarriage brings.
I hope you find someone whose experience is close enough to yours for you to be able to relate and find comfort. Finding such people is difficult because, even if the circumstances are the same, the emotional response to every loss is very personal and unique.
In the meantime, I hope that you can lean on people in your life or the friends that you make on line just enough to see you through.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, Ana, I’m sorry about your twins. It’s a lonely, lonely time. I hope you have also found love, comfort, and support. Email me any time xo
I go on excursions quite a bit. The attitudes of those I relied on most was that of “Just pull yourself up by the bra straps and get over that shit!” to which I responded in some “not so kind” phrases. Ironically on these excursions, I met people that caused me to think about new things.
Did these lessen the pain? No. However it did take my mind off of the negativity even if only for a little while. The bottom line is that my family members who spewed about this case just didn’t understand my grief.
Nothing is more screwed up than experiencing this alone. I may not be in the exact same club you’re in, but it is because of the realization I have that one child doesn’t replace another I was able to deal with even worse things from the ones giving me the problems back then. I truly hope things get better for you soon.
Thanks for sharing your hard-earned wisdom, Tina. I’m sorry you’re a member of this club, even if it is 27 years later I’m sure it’s still hard.