Am I Doing This Right?

Am I doing this right? What happened anyway you look at it was a big life event but my brain keeps flipping the switch between being functional or about to cry. The sensation of crying is now at the point that is feels like the sensation to sneeze where my body and brain prep itself for the momentary outburst.

What happened to me was called a missed miscarriage, the fetus no longer had heart beats but my body had not clued in. This kind of miscarriage so late the in pregnancy is not terribly common, however if you Google it you will be amazed at the number woman who can speak to having to happen to them. The internet has a strange way of making something rare feel like it is everywhere, but that is because it is an outlet.

                I am not certain that I am grieving properly... I know there is no right or wrong way but I feel I am being treated as if I am a tea cup with a chip in it that no one is quite sure if it will fully crack if the water is poured too hot. I am told I am brave when I speak out about what has happened. As a griever I am a doer, I need to have my hands busy so that while I am thinking of what I am upset about I am also in motion.  This can come off as being emotionless or as if I am cutting people out but in this instance other then my husband's emotions I don't care about anyone else. This can sounds harsh but this loss is not a everyday loss. We are born to die, it is inevitable. My little ones skipped a step and now I suffer with the loss. I sometimes wish I could allow others inbut I am not here to support them in their grieving this time.

                Subsequently due to  my current state I have been able to stand back in the moment of condolence and acknowledge that some things should just never be said. In these instances a simple hug and an admission that you do not know what to say is much better than just speaking.

 

                I miss the little flutters in my belly from my little girls rolling awkwardly over each other, but I sit here cognisant of the unknown thinking "what if this was for the best?". We will not received the finale results from the amnio until May 25th where we will find out if there were any identifiable genetic defects that would have caused termination. There are so many other what ifs that there might not be any answer for but was it better that I lost them now then to lose them after birth? This is a very selfish comment to make but the thought of bringing such innocent life into the world only to have it suffer on its way out hurts just a little more. But then am I fantasising  the idea that they gently slipped away while inside of me, that they felt no pain? But what if there was nothing genetically wrong with them and in fact I did lose them because of cord compression, a risk of my little ones being MoMo twins. Then comes the big, what if I lost them because I decided to do the amnio testing. So many 'what ifs' that I messaged my husband this week asking him if I was a monster because I couldn't keep them alive. This is why the will be my last post until the 25th and the doctors have tried to explain the most probable cause and I can close the door of the these questions.

                 

 

Little Feets

Sometimes I can be impulsive, this is why I married someone who counteracts  this tendency and or keeps me on a semi strait line...sort of. 

The decision was simple, sitting on the couch crying about recent events (there has been many tears and I don't think they are done yet) all of a sudden I had this idea. The only thing from our girls we were their feet prints which made sense that I would get them tattooed on me. At first I wanted their little feet on the bottom of my feet. This kind of tattoo is possible but requires above average maintenance as the skin on the bottom of your feet is different like the palms of your hands. The idea of walk their feet off of my feet made me sad...because anything can make me sad at the moment so I took the advice of the tattoo artist and went with the top of my feet.

Getting a tattoo of any kind for me holds meaning. My first tattoo ever was a feather on my back designed by my dad at my request for my 18th birthday because he didn't like the idea of me having a tattoo. When I know what I want there is no stopping me from getting it but these little feet were different. Until this point I had only had symbols or quotes tattooed on me that held meaning and now without a second thought I was going to have these little feet prints of my daughters tattooed on top of my feet. 

the artist was amazing, she put up with the crap scan I brought in because I should have known better and asked my husband to remove the pink back ground of the card the feet were stamped on. Not to mention my impulsiveness of knowing it would work out and my husbands nervousness of thinking I was rushing into this tattoo but the artist understood, she saw how much it meant to both of us and worked with us every step of the way to make sure they were the actual size and had the unique characteristic of each foot print.

It wasn't until the next morning looking at the little toes on my feet that I started to break down.  When I was a little girl I would stand in my dad's feet as he would stomp around the house pretending we were a monster. It hurts to know I will never be able to physically do this with my own daughters but their little feet tattooed on my feet provides an odd comfort. 

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As time passes I have broken down this loss and rationalized it as much as possible but my mind keeps getting stuck on the thoughts I had for the future that now will not happen for my little beasties. Obviously this makes me cry a little sometimes and a lot other times.

I think about a different future now. A future where maybe we do end up having a successful pregnancy where I am explaining to a little person the meaning of the feet marks on my feet and of the sisters they will never meet. Or there is the other possibility the my body becomes a memorial for all the little ones lost. Then my thoughts begin to spiral with the thought of being preagant again and if it is a single pregnancy it makes me sad to think of how alone that little one will be but if it is a multiple pregnancy how could I survive outside of the world of panic and upset as if buckling into a roller coaster ride if am terrified of. Like I said, my thoughts spiral. 

Everthing I write here I have already said to my husband. He is the one who holds me tight as my mind explores the rabbit holes of possibilities as I try to think of every potential outcome and it's probability. Putting the words up here just helps wth getting the crazy out. 

So here I am, thinking about new futures while honoring the little ones that took a step to the left and are no longer apart of my path but forever apart of my heart. 

So What Now?

Little over a month ago I wrote a post that I didn't put up titled "Wasn't This Supposed To Be Fun". In the post I document where I was in my pregnancy and everything we had already gone through in regards to scans and tests and waiting on results. I felt back from publishing it because I was afraid of telling people I was preagant and then miscarrying. 

I find I am stuck on the reality that "I was pregnant." Miscarriage is a common thing that most people do not talk about and those that do typically experienced it later in the pregnancy which carries it's own unique emotional scars for everyone. Where I am most stuck is in the fact that my body had not caught on to the loss of life that had occurred but somewhere in the back of my mind I was acknowledging it before the anatomy scan in strange comments to people. I then think about everything that could have gone wrong and how it was my fault but I will wait until my appointment in May before assigning all the blame to me.

Truthfully I am lonely, for 5 months I would read weekly update on their growth progress and fret over the fact that all I wanted to eat was olives and milk with grapefruit and what kind of messed up taste preferences it was creating for them. I would talk to them and sing to them, I would rub my belly somethings feeling more connected to the little beasties. It sounds insain but suffering through the morning sickness had become a sign of life, I feel dumb for thinking that when it was easing up in that last week before the scan that I thought it was because my body was moving into the next stages of pregnancy. There are a lot of little thoughts like that in the back of my mind and once I start thinking about them I spiral.... But isn't that normal? 

So now what?

I have read all the pamphlets on loss and followed the Google rabbit hole. I wanted to go back to work this week but there were concerns about me taking enough time off. It is amazing to have an employer who is willing to let me have whatever time I need but what good does it do me to sit in an empty house by myself? Logical question, but the problem that I need to come to terms with is that I need to learn to be alone. I may have only been pregnant for 5 months but I had built up a life time of expectations of having two kids running around me for the next ten years or until they decided to disown me and now I can't even be left alone in the house for a week because the thought of being with myself is terrifying. I am functional, I am logical and I could make it through work with minimal tears and get on with life, but what good will it do in the end trying to put on a brave face for myself.

I might look tougher but my husband is the strong one. In the past week and a half he has been at home with me, ready with open arms every time I have a break down. He tells me it is okay and I believe him because his words hold love and comfort. He would have made an amazing dad and hopefully will someday, but that thought breaks my heart and I have started crying again. 

So what now?

Now I sit here with a few tears rolling down my cheeks thinking about the future. We want children but could I survive this happening again, could he? People have been making comments that even with the loss out our little girls we are still parents, I don't know why but this bothers me. I was never called mommy by my child so do I have the right to say I was a mother? Right now my heart says no, I was a woman who was preagant who miscarried at 19 weeks and even though I call them my daughters it only feels right because I am able to speak the words aloud. 

So what now?