“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” ~ Kahlil Gibran
Social media. It can connect us. It can reunite. But it can also eat away at you, especially as a mother, or a mother to be. Pinterest shows you those perfect snacks and parties. Instagram shows those beautiful moments that just MUST be captured. And Facebook is where the world announces pregnancies. And births. But rarely losses. Not only can this keep women from seeking support, but it can fray one’s nerves.At first I considered myself lucky. I already have one SUPER amazing daughter. I know my husband and I can get pregnant. And the miscarriage was early. We found out at the first ultrasound at 10 weeks. I wasn’t even surprised. Something was just off in this pregnancy. We had already told people I was pregnant, but the night before the ultrasound, I found myself preparing how to tell people that there was no heartbeat. Less than 24 hours later, that’s what happened.
I was sad. But I was thankful it was early. I was thankful that my sixth sense prepared me. And then I had a rare roast beef sandwich and some tuna sushi. My husband and I told everyone who knew I was pregnant. Thank god for modern communication. Texting our friends was so much easier than the call to family.
I had to wait a few days before we could confirm the miscarriage and have the D&C. My body was just not figuring out what had happened, and I wanted a clean start. Right after New Year’s I went to the hospital and the D&C went as well as I could have imagined! I was prepared to rest up for a bit. Take care of myself for a month or two and be pregnant by my birthday in April. Then the complications started. And then Facebook got sad for me. I went through a thoroughly bizarre series of uterine issues after my miscarriage.
NOTE: If you don’t like bodily stuff, skip this next paragraph and continue on.
First, it appeared that my uterus wasn’t healing. It was like post partum bleeding, but without the baby. Finally after 7-8 weeks of on and off bleeding, it was back to the office. A quick ultrasound showed that my uterus had grown a fluid filled cyst THE SIZE OF A LIME. In my uterus. In 8 weeks. I called it my cyst baby. So, it was on to birth control pills to shrink that lime into oblivion. After a few weeks of hormonal psychosis, I went back for another ultrasound, happy to see the cyst almost gone. I was given permission to go out and get pregnant. Then a few weeks later I had the WORST. CYCLE. EVER. The cramps were so bad one day it felt like labor. Then I went potty (I have a 2 year old, I don’t go to the bathroom, I go potty). And something came out. Yup. OUT. Apparently it is possible for the uterus to push out a fibroid. And my uterus decided that this fibroid, that had been hanging out for at least 3 years, just had to go.
A Little Lemon From My Garden
BODILY ICKY STUFF OVER: So here I am, first a miscarriage, then months of complications, meanwhile, at least once a week on Facebook, it seems someone is announcing a pregnancy or a birth. At this point I don’t trust my uterus. And I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. And women whose first children are the same as my first kid are rolling around with number 2. But I want to be pregnant again. More than anything. So I chart. I pee on a stick. We try. And we try. And we try.
It’s now a year after we started trying for number 2. I speak openly about my miscarriage, and most people respond with an “I’m sorry” or something to that effect. But the miscarriage wasn’t the hard part. The hard part for me is what comes next. When will I get pregnant? Will there be another miscarriage?
I work to find a balance. I’m happy for my friends who are pregnant and having babies. But I have to check myself to not get too disappointed when it’s them and not me. And I have to manage my disappointment when my monthly visitor shows up instead of a little plus sign on a stick. And I have to check myself when people offer well-intentioned by often annoying tips. My favorite (and by favorite, I mean least favorite) is when people tell me to just relax and not worry about it. I’m pretty sure the only people who say that are people who either a) never tried to get pregnant or b) got pregnant easily/haven’t dealt with a loss.
So for the time being, I'll continuing peeing on sticks every month. I'll get excited for my friends' new babies. I'll do my best to take care of me. And I'll post cute pictures of my kid and cats on Facebook.
Blossom Mom Rachel is a corporate wellness consultant, variously dabbling in nutrition, stress management and when possible, yoga. She is the mother of three fur babies and one amazing 2 1/2 year old. When she isn't chasing after or feeding one of them, Rachel is busy figuring out how to best share her talents of teaching and speaking to groups.
http://www.naturalzest.com
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