Slow Going

I am getting through the muck that is getting past a miscarriage. I say “muck”, because most days lately, I feel like I’m walking through the world in slow-motion. My feet feel heavy, like I’m walking through a muddy, mucky swamp or something. The world just seems to be zipping past me at light speed, while I trudge along.

I have to analyze my life plan. I have to re-evaluate my future. My whole existence has changed, and getting used to that is going to take some time. It takes a lot of energy, just to focus on that. So, it would stand to reason that the rest of my life would move a bit slower.

I don’t think I’m depressed, though (well, not anymore). For the past few mornings, I have woken up with a sense that I have been granted a new day to go out and do things and fix things and get my life back in order. I’m no longer afraid to face the world.

My confidence and my whole world view were completely shattered. But, I’m managing to pick up all the pieces, put them back together (albeit in a new way) and take a few steps forward.

It’s times like these when one can be amazed at their own resilience. You hear about other people’s misfortunes, and you think, “I can’t even imagine what I would do if that happened to me.” But, the truth is, you manage it somehow. You reach deep down inside of yourself and you pull out the courage and the strength you need to get by. And you look forward to all the tomorrows you have ahead of you, instead of fearing them.

Loss

I’m trying to find a way to discuss what happened to us over Easter weekend with the blogosphere, but I’m not even sure what to say to myself quite yet. Here goes…

I went for my first prenatal appointment on Friday morning. The OBGYN’s little ultrasound machine wasn’t picking up a heartbeat in my little bean, and he/she was measuring 7 weeks, and I was 10 weeks. So, they sent me down a floor to radiology, where the more powerful ultrasound machines could give us a better picture. We had to wait in the radiology lobby for almost an hour. The longest hour of my life. Well, except for the next hour after that when results were being read and sent back to the clinic.

Then, they laid the bad news on me: bean had no heartbeat, and had probably passed away two weeks ago. And it’s not my fault and it’s normal and blah blah blah. Nothing anyone said to me for the rest of that day or the next made me feel better about it.

I had to take some medication to get things moving. It had already been two weeks, and they were concerned about things still being inside me. THAT was easily the worst part of all of it. To have to endure the physical pain in addition to all the emotional pain I was already in. Though, it has made it easier to begin healing now that it’s officially over.

We are hopeful for the future, and know that having a successful pregnancy later on is very probable for us. It’s just getting through the here and now that’s giving us some trouble. Trying to sort out why this happened, and how we can make some sense of it, if any at all. Trying to pick up the pieces of our lives and our hearts and move forward.