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Shoulda been

December 29, 2010

Two weeks. That’s how long it’s been since my last post. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve tried to write, I’ve tried to write almost every day, but I can’t find the words for the post I need to write, so I write and I draft, I write and I delete and I don’t post. I haven’t been looking forward to Christmas or this week at all. I didn’t want to be the one voice of, ‘oh crap everything sucks’ so I just shut up. But until I write this damn post I can’t think of anything else to write about so here goes…

Today was my due date. Today I was supposed to either be enormous and uncomfortable or a proud and tired new mom. Today V was supposed to be a big sister and we were going to be a family of 4. Today I should have been snuggled in on a babymoon, trying to figure out how we were going to walk the dog and deal with the newborn. Wondering if V would continue at nursery school or if she’d stay home with us. I should be knitting longies and soakers and dealing with loads of diapers. I should be telling V to be careful with her sisterbrother (which is how she voices her desire for a sibling, ‘mommy I want a sisterbrother’. There’s nothing I’d love more kiddo.)

Instead I have a broken heart. Hell, I have a broken heart, a broken spirit and a broken mind. I’ve cried about this every day since May. I can’t look at V’s baby pictures without crying. I don’t want to hear about Celine, because I found out I was miscarrying at the same time as she announced her pregnancy. Same for Alanis, she announced around the time I found out I had a missed miscarriage and needed a D&C.

I have a house full of baby stuff that I’m not willing to part with yet. I just cannot bring myself to get rid of it. It brought me to tears when hubby packed the baby bottles. I still have 2 Christmas Goodmamas from last year that V never wore (damn toilet trained kid!) Hubby wants to get a full sized bed for V but I can’t figure out where we’d store her convertible crib. Purging would be an admission that we aren’t going to try again, and even if hubby says he doesn’t want to, I don’t want to admit it. I CAN’T admit it. I know I’m 41. I know that was our 8th attempt but I’m not ready to face the fact that we’ll never have another child. I would try again in a heartbeat. And so we live in and amongst Rubbermaid bins of items I can’t face getting rid of.

It might sound ridiculous given our history, but this result was something I hadn’t really contemplated going in. We’d *fixed* the miscarriage issue. I was either going to get pregnant or not. And I would have been fine (so I thought then so I say now) with either. But actually getting pregnant and miscarrying? Wasn’t on the table, wasn’t considered, and leaves me feeling so incomplete. It’s not an answer. And so I live with this crushing sadness and echoes of dreams and shoulda beens.

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. December 30, 2010 9:50 pm

    I am so sorry that you are hurting so. I wish I could help, I would do anything. XO

  2. January 4, 2011 3:30 pm

    I read your post and started crying at the raw emotion you were obviously feeling as you wrote it. I, too, should have been celebrating the birth of my second child right about now. (I was due the first week of January, and miscarried the same week you did.) Miscarriages are a horrible mix of ugly feelings. Everyone seems to think they know how you are, or should, be feeling, and they are usually wrong.

    My husband and I managed to get pregnant again, thanks to Clomid, Metformin, and tons of research (fingers crossed that this one is okay), but I still feel this deep sadness whenever I think of what might have been.

    I’m so sorry for your loss. I know that there is nothing that can be said to make you feel better. Just know that however you are feeling is okay. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

    • neeroc permalink*
      January 4, 2011 11:31 pm

      Thanks so much and CONGRATULATIONS!

  3. Karen permalink
    January 18, 2011 7:54 am

    My heart aches for you. I have experienced the grief of miscarriage and had a glimpse of the grief that comes with the possibility of not having a child. It’s painful in a way that is hard to comprehend. I’m rambling, but there aren’t words that can ease that pain. I hope that time brings healing for you and your family as well.

    • neeroc permalink*
      January 18, 2011 4:10 pm

      Thanks so much Karen.

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