Has it been that long?
October 19, 2009Hello I am here! My name is Alice! CAN YOU HEAR ME!
Wait, let me try that again. Hello! This is a blog! Wait. That’s not good at all. HELLO WHAT IS YOUR NAME ARE YOU FRIEND?! No, no, I’m coming on too strong. Sorry. Wow. Greetings, I am here writing you for having long-time not written… is strange! Yes is!
There you go. Much better.
Sorry about that. I’m a little out of practice. It turns out I have to post more frequently, or several terrible things happen: 1) I forget how to come up with ideas; 2) everyone gets mad at me, but secretly, in their heads, so I have to imagine it; 3) Earth’s orbit goes just the tiniest bit awry, and we are set on an immutable trajectory that will eventually hurl us straight into the sun. I apologize for that last part. I didn’t know my own power. I should have guessed, of course. Apologies all around.
So I went to the Broad Summit the weekend before last, and it took me almost this long to recover. I was terribly fatigued, and had an attack of the nerves. A few drops of laudanum in my chamomile tisane managed to soothe me, but a longer rest cure than usual was prescribed. And now these linen straps are holding me fast to the bedposts, making it rather difficult to write! Oh, why won’t the doctor answer my bell?
Seriously, it was an incredible weekend, and apparently I am now a wrecked and aged woman who can’t handle air travel. Or maybe it’s regular life I can’t handle, and the return to reality is what caused my neurasthenia. Either way, I am now returned to my normally vigorous self. Huzzah!
Let’s change the subject now and talk about something cheerful, like miscarriage. We finally tackled the topic over at Momversation, and I am just grateful that the editors edited out my bizarre behavior, because in addition to being an old woman, I am a child who cannot discuss anything painful without interjecting jokes and weird inappropriate laughter. I believe I began my video with a fart joke. I’m not even kidding.
It felt strange to talk about my miscarriage so long after the fact, and the crabby guilt-laden Catholic inside me is whinnying, Why are you still thinking about that? Move on! Worry about the poor and the lame! And also the blind! Jesus died for your sins, missy! But then the rest of me is all, I’m sure you have a point, Sister Teresa of the Bleeding Ramekin, but put a damn sock in it. So there.
Reader Comments (52)
That Momversation topic is a tough one. I have had two miscarriages in the past year and I just took a pregnancy test last night, which was positive. I think the biggest thing for me is the fear that something is going to go wrong. That fear never goes away and for someone who's lived through a miscarriage it is palpable... because we KNOW things go wrong. We've lived it.
when I was in college, one of my friends was a non-traditional student (in her mid-thirties). one day over lunch in the student lounge, she showed me some poetry she had written for an english class, and one of them was about miscarriage; I then found out that she had had thirteen miscarriages. Even thinking about it now makes my throat close up and my eyes all sting-ey - I can't begin to comprehend that pain. All I could do was sob that I was sorry, so sorry - and I couldn't stop crying. Thirteen. God.
Yup, I posted at the time, but I'm sorry again, Alice. I had the same story at aroudn the 11th week. We had an early ultrasound previously and saw the heartbeat, and although it seemed like my mild symptoms had been fading and I am neurotic, I was able to tell myself that it was just because I was nearing the end of the first tri. For the first several days I would burst into tears whenever I remembered my doctor's reaction the minute she could see anything. And I couldn't get that reaction to stop playing. She was wonderful, though, and reminded us that Christmas was a week away and maybe a d&c would be a good idea since it would be nice not to be miscarrying under the Christmas tree.
That d&c instructed me on the fact that all women in the medical profession (at least the ones there that day) had had at least one, cause they all told me so. When I told my doc this at the followup, she said, she had too. Sigh. Happily, I'm writing this on my 2-year-old's birthday. I remember around when it was that we found out, but not the exact date--but I still remember my due date exactly.
My son is 8 .. and would have had two siblings almost 6 and 2 if it had not been for my m/c's. I think that is what makes them the most painfull - thinking about the life that will be .. of course that is, but also the future of that child. Everytime I look a my nephew (who is almost 6) I see what 'could' have been my child. And how my son would interact with him/her.It's devastating, and of course the worst when you are emersed in it, but I often often think of what could have been and perhaps what should have been. And then I think like one of your commenters. I like to think I did it so exceptionally the first time, that nothing could compare with the special child I have right now. I feel so blessed and so lucky to be a mom and experience all the things moms of 1, or 3 or 19 do.Henry is so lucky to have an amazing mom like you. Never ever forget that. And I know we will all never forget our angels either. They just had a different plan
The second time I was twenty-two, and was absolutely certain I was pregnant. Took seven or eight pregnancy tests that all came up negative, and then had a miscarriage the next day.
I'm now twenty-eight, and the really major blow for me has been this disbelief that I can have kids. Like, "There's a reason why this happened twice, and it's because clearly you would be a bad mother." or that my body just can't do it. For years after the second miscarriage, though I wasn't even looking to have a baby, I thought I didn't want to, and only now am coming to this realization that maybe that's not true. That maybe I just convinced myself I didn't want to have kids because I don't want to lose them.
It's a really bizarre thing, losing something you didn't know you had or wanted.
Oy. Miscarriage. I am so sorry. I can relate to the inappropriate laughing and jokes. I sent out an email to my family announcing I had a brain tumor and ended it with a Dr. banging the nurse knock-knock joke. Not even kidding. Painful = painful humor for me. So I get it.
Stay strong, lady, and looking forward to reading your good news!