In the weeks following our first miscarriage, I was an emotional train wreck, and I knew it. I shared what had happened with a coworker and she immediately recommended that I seek counseling. She gathered all of the information on our employee assistance offered through our benefits plan and I called that same day. I was put in touch with an incredibly helpful social worker who has helped me tremendously in my recovery. I went weekly at first, and as the pain became less fresh, I stretched it out to every other week. Therapy was and is still, so beneficial for me.
Being a nurse, I tend to think medically of the worst case scenario. I often would say things in therapy sessions like, “what if there is something seriously wrong with me and I will never be able to have a baby?” or “what if this happens again? I don’t know how I’ll survive. ” or “what if my body never returns to normal?” “What if this puts a huge strain on my marriage?” She was gentle at first, but as the sessions went on, she would interrupt me from these pessimistic thoughts and simply say to me “NOW.” “Now is what you have control over.”
The guilt that I felt was overwhelming some days. I worked out vigorously several times prior to getting my BFP. I hoisted myself up into my husband’s F150 a few days before the spotting began. I lifted that 24 pack of G2 at Costco. I drank that cup of coffee a couple days after our BFP. We had sex after our BFP. Did I do this? Did I cause this miscarriage? Did I worry my way into ending this pregnancy? My therapist would ask me, “and what does your rational/nurse brain tell you when you think these thoughts?”
As a NICU nurse, I know that some women abuse drugs throughout their pregnancy and their babies are born without major complications. I know that some women do everything right, and their babies have difficult deliveries, or their babies are born with congenital defects. I know that in reality, pregnancy is a total crap shoot, and that you really have very little control over the health of your unborn child. My rational nurse brain tells me that none of these things CAUSED my miscarriage. My rational nurse brain tells me that 1 in 4 people miscarry- that it is so common. My rational nurse brain tells me that genetic defects cause miscarriage. And my faith based brain tells me that I am NOT in control. I do NOT have that much power. The greatest help that this social worker gave me was that she told me that
ALL OF MY FEELINGS WERE OKAY.
But that being said, she helped guide me to the rationalization that I was not to blame for this. She told me “Past is shame and regret. Future is anxiety and fear. Present is peace and power.” If I didn’t feel like partaking in any social gathering ever again, that was okay. If I couldn’t bear to be near anyone who was pregnant for a while? That was okay. If the pregnancy announcements in my news feed made me want to throw my phone across the room? That was okay. If I broke down crying in the middle of the store? That was okay.
During my first session with my therapist, she asked me, “where do you want to be, or how do you want to feel at the end of these sessions?” My response was what you would expect, “I want to feel acceptance of this miscarriage and loss.” But then I added more, “But really, I want to be more conscious of the present and be okay with where I am now. I want to find JOY in the present.”
I had many days where I questioned if my loss even happened. I wondered some days if I had just shoved the hurt so deep into my subconscious that I was unable to feel the sadness. The biggest feeling that plagued me, and caused some stain on our marriage was that I didn’t want to go back to the way life was before my BFP. It didn’t feel ENOUGH. It didn’t feel right. In such a short time, we both had dreamed and schemed and planned for this little baby. I bought glass tupperware containers so as to not microwave leftovers in plastic. I stopped drinking my occasional glass of wine. I stopped drinking coffee. I gave up some of my favorite foods. I added meditation and yoga to my daily routine. I started journaling to this baby. I was constantly aware of this life within me, and suddenly it was gone. How could I possibly go back and feel that my life was as full? Saying this out loud to my husband brought on a reality check.
When I told him that life didn’t seem good enough anymore, I think I really hurt him. And the thought that I hurt the one who had been there for me the most through the most awful weeks of my life- was terrible. Back when we were trying to conceive, I felt such a letdown every month when AF would arrive. Because we hadn’t added more to our life. Conceiving a baby and then losing it reeks havoc on the brain. I had opened my mind to endless possibilities and dared to dream, and then suddenly I was forced to find life as it was before just as exhilarating. Well I didn’t. And I’m not sure that my husband understood that. He told me that while he was incredibly devastated, his life hadn’t changed to the extent that my life had changed. That it wasn’t nearly as much of an adjustment for him to return back to the way that things were before.
I’m not sure how or when I began to think of my life as being ENOUGH again. It didn’t happen overnight. I remember that my first cup of coffee and my first glass of wine came with its own set of feelings. I prayed daily that God would heal the hole I felt in my heart, and the absence that I felt in my life. And that I would be able to focus on what I had, and not what I longed for. What I do know is that with time I began to accept my new reality, and it happened because I accepted myself and ALL of my feelings within me.
