Friday, September 12, 2008

The End of Our Pregnancy

Thia Cook
Originally uploaded by Linux Chick.

First thing’s first. I’m sorry for spending so long away, only to return with this downer of a post. I regret that it will be anything but uplifting, so I apologize and invite you to NOT read any further.

After I wrote this, I debated about whether I should even post it. But, I found other women’s stories so comforting, even if they were just venting that I decided to throw it on here for the world to judge. Who knows? Maybe someone will come across it Googling and hopefully walk away feeling a little less alone.

So, here’s what I wrote. It’s unedited, so be warned…

Yesterday, I wondered if I should be writing all this down. That if things did not work out like we hoped things would, if I would look back on yesterday’s moment and somehow be envious.

The thought was ridiculous at the time, I was so rapt with worry about the future of our unborn that any news (yes, even the most terrible of news) would have been a relief. Anything else I may have felt, I can’t remember now.

Today, I wish I could write all the things that yesterday I couldn’t bear to. But, I’m unable to grasp anymore the optimism that I used to cling onto: that everything might work out okay and the baby might somehow make it through this pregnancy.

The Miscarriage
I knew it was all ending, and soon. I sat on the toilet with the balls of my feet and palms of my hands against the tile floor. I was sweating and I wondered if I was going to throw up. There was pain. And with the pinching, everything in my body betrayed me and worked to expel our precious little one.

When it was over, I gripped the shower curtain beside me and sobbed. 

Suspecting this would happen for nearly two weeks, didn’t really help. Knowing that 20% of all pregnancies end this way didn’t help. I was devastated.

I couldn’t speak. Crumpled on the floor, it took me almost an hour to tell J what happened.

Aside from the bleeding, nothing in particular is different about today. An hour ago, I washed my face and looking in the mirror, I started to put on my make up. The routine should’ve felt more familiar than it did. It's after all just another day, but I was surprised that with all that had happened, I appeared totally unchanged.

But everything had changed.  I looked down at my flat tummy, knowing it would never grow and grew angry.  I wanted to yell at it: 'What's so wrong with you that you couldn't keep the baby!?  You look fine!  You're not sick!'

It’s utterly impossible not to feel that you’ve failed in some terrible and very fundamental way.

I must’ve aged a thousand years today.



Team Anderson said...

Thia I am so sorry that this has happend to your family. I think that putting this in your blog as painful as it is will help you to heal. Please take care.

Vighpyr said...

This is one of those instances that causes one to ponder how much worth there is in taking the risk of appearing to seem inappropriately dense about the impact this has on you, Jeremy, and your family. But weighing the choice between walking on the proverbial eggshells and treading that safer path to avoid seeming callow to the type of pain you must be experiencing, or trying my best to express my sorrow for what you are going through right now and hoping not to appear insensitive, I'll risk the latter. I know that words mean so little at a time like this. You and Jeremy have my most sincere sympathy at this time. You will be in my prayers as you go forward and I will include in them the hope that God gives you strength as you begin, and continue to heal.


Anonymous said...

I'm terribly sorry to hear of your loss, I can truly relate and all I can say is Time Heals All Wounds. Your writing has been uplifting , enlightening, and hilarious at times for me. I stumbled across you a year or so ago. Love the hair cut by the way. Keep the stories and pictures coming...they really have been wonderful!!!

Darkness U.S.A said...

hello thia

i know i do not know you but i am sorry to hear of your loss. i hope in time your pain becomes less

Jmilz86 said...

I just found ur blog and I wanted to share my deepest sympathy for you and your SO in the loss of your unborn child! I can't imagine the pain!

Anonymous said...

I am one of those people who just stumbled across your blog searching through google. I can not say I undrstand how you feel, but your sorry has left me speechless. What I can say is that after reading your sorry I felt a pain and hurt inside that I felt when my father died. The feeling of loss is universal, but what i felt then I would not wish on my worse enemy. However, what you described goes even deeper, and I never understood how this made women feel util now. Thank you.
On a brighter note I love the way you write, and use of words. I found your blog in a search for beautiful thia girls. I f that means anything. Lastly, you are everything that God would have you to be.