there are no words

There are no words, but I will try.

The feelings that I had upon making my private struggle public, left me speechless.  Last Saturday I hit “post” and “share” and immediately felt a wave of emotions overcome me.  I felt sick to my stomach, dizzy, shaky and hung on tight as a roller coaster of adrenaline swept over me.

Back when I started writing for my own healing and understanding, I had always planned on sharing my blog eventually through Instagram.  I wanted to help my family and friends understand my point of view.  Instagram is my social media of choice nowadays, but Facebook is another story. When Facebook first came out when I was in college, it became “cool” to get as many “friends” as possible.  I have been much more selective in who I allowed to see my Instagram life than I have my Facebook posts, and gradually I have stopped posting except for a couple times per year on Facebook.

So after my husband and house guests had headed to Notre Dame for another tailgate, I sat at the kitchen table thinking about releasing this blog.  It was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, and I was feeling the urge to make it public.  (After having a few friends and family members approve of it first- THANK YOU!)   When I clicked “post” on Instagram I became aware of feelings of relief, peace and calm.  I texted back and forth with a couple friends who were very encouraging, and then I got to thinking about Facebook.   I thought that there was no way I could release it to Facebook because there were so many more people who I have lost touch with on there who I felt either wouldn’t understand, or didn’t deserve to know the personal struggle that we had been through.   My friends advised me to do what I felt I was comfortable with, and Facebook made me uncomfortable.  For a few extra minutes I sat there debating whether or not I do Facebook and then it hit me, what was holding me back? Embarrassment? Guilt? Did I feel like I had failed? I have been writing about my daily struggle to not feel “less than” and by not posting on Facebook I would have been doing just that- feeling that I was less than other people who might not understand or “deserve” to know.   So even though Facebook was a much scarier deal for me, suddenly I felt the courage to share my Instagram post to Facebook and thereby opening up a much bigger radius of sharing.

When I hit “share” I started crying. I felt shaky all over, nauseated, and I felt a wave of adrenaline rush over me. What had I just done? I had allowed so many “random” people into the most private and honest parts of my marriage, my home, and my heart.  And it made me absolutely terrified for the next hour.  What if people rejected it, or pitied me?  What if they didn’t understand?  What if they thought that I was absolutely insane?   But I had to- because even in that moment after I had shared on Instagram, my displaced feelings of guilt and shame resurfaced.   These feelings, though rarely justified often coincide with miscarriage or loss.   And the fact that those feelings resurfaced is exactly why I wanted do put myself out there. There are so  many people who silently suffer with feelings like mine, and that private suffering needs to stop.

I thought back to the people who posted on Facebook about their own miscarriage struggles months before I had my first loss.  When I was going through the fresh pain of miscarriage, I remember searching for those posts and reading them over and over again.   I desperately needed to know that I was not the only one out there going through this type of grief and confusion.  And when I nearly memorized those posts, I googled for more.  I was so thirsty for more stories of triumph over loss, for more proof that I would come out the other side of this and be okay.   I chose to post for the people who will go on to have a miscarriage, for people who have been through one and silently suffered, and I posted it for for myself.  It was by far the most terrifying thing I have ever done.

So after having a really good cry, which felt like this powerful release of emotion, I went to the fridge and poured myself a glass of Pinot Grigio to call my nerves.  And I vowed that I would not look at my phone to check Facebook or Instagram until much later in the day, if not the next day. I didn’t want to feel rejected if no one commented or liked what I posted.   I truly wanted to put it out there, and I wanted to stay strong and not be tempted to take it down.

Later that night I allowed myself to look, and the part that I can’t put into words is how forever grateful I will be for each and everyone of you who commented, liked, private messaged or text messaged me to encourage me to continue sharing our journey. I heard from people who have never shared about their own miscarriage and grief, people who I had not spoken to in many years, from distant family members who shared their story with me, and I got the most amazing amount of encouragement and drive to continue to do this. And I can’t thank any of you enough.

And in the week that has followed, I have never felt more free or felt more OK.  It’s almost like now that it’s out there, I can focus on the other aspects of my life.  I feel as though I am a part of this amazing group of women- young and old who have been there, or are there now.  I have been told already that I may have helped a few people by doing this, and that feels really, really good.  Again, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Your encouragement truly means the world to me and I will be forever grateful for it all.  I have a renewed sense of HOPE and purpose in my life, and I cannot put a price on that.