I think it is important for us to share our story. If nobody ever shared, we would all feel extremely alone. This is sort of like a journal I've kept over the past few months. I feel it is therapeutic for me to write and share what I've been through and I hope it inspires others to share their story as well.
I don't see a heartbeat. My own heart sinks. The room is spinning. Dreams dying around me. How am I breathing? Am I breathing? Breathe in, breathe out. She says something about pain. Are we really discussing this? Focus. Take one when the cramping starts. I can't focus. I hope he's listening. Is he listening? What's he doing? Is he breathing? He's breathing. One foot in front of the other. Just get out of here. If you can make it out of here, everything will be okay. Sign the paper. Make sure they know you're okay. There's the door. Run to it. No, this will be alarming. Don't be dramatic. Finally, the push of the door. I can't stop the tears now. Try to make it to the car. Are there people around? I don't know. It doesn't matter. The tears are rolling. I am sobbing. It doesn't even sound like me. Who is this sobbing lady that is so distraught? Why can't she stop? I have to stop. She will be worried about me. WAIT!! Where is she?!?! He's strapping her safely in her seat. Our perfect, beautiful miracle. More of a miracle now than ever. She came so easily. No complications, no problems. That seems like a different life. One where good things happen so simply.
Shit! We have to tell our family. We have to say the words. We have to relive this moment over and over. We have to hear the pity in their voices. We have to deliver terrible news to people we love. We stall. When it comes, we get to the point and get the hell off the phone. We hold each other. We cry. We hold our perfect miracle. Now, we have to wait. Wait for our baby with no heartbeat to be born. It was never really a baby. A cluster of cells. My cluster. It was never the size of all those fruits. Why do they use fruit? It never developed fingernails or eyelids. I was so stupid. There's not a baby in there, just a cluster of cells! I loved my cluster.
Now I am waiting for my cluster to be born. I wait days. He's being amazing. We're having so much fun together. Our family. We go everywhere. We are around lots of people. No one has a clue. I want to scream it to the world. No, I'm glad no one knows. I'm glad no one looks at me with pity. You poor thing.
Day five since we've known. The cramping starts. It is intense. How many was I supposed to take? Lots of blood. I feel my cervix opening. I'm determined to have the natural, peaceful experience I had planned. More blood. More cramping. How am I doing this? Finally, a gush. Relief. Is it over? Yes, it is. I sit. I feel empowered. It was beautiful really. My body is amazing. Goodbye, my cluster. I flush.
Parts II and III Part IV
This was absolutely beautiful. Thank you for sharing your story. Love you, Brandi.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Linds
Thank you, Lindsay. Love you, too.
DeleteBeautifully written. I am in awe of your courage and strength. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Amy. I knew I would share my story I just didn't know when. Thank you for taking the time to read it and comment.
DeleteI'm sorry you had to go through this Brandi. Miscarriage is still somewhat taboo because people don't discuss it often and I commend you for sharing your experience. Nobody should ever feel alone going through something so devastating. Once you get those two pink lines he/she is always more than a cluster...he/she is your dream! I have been fortunate enough never to suffer such a loss but I thank you for sharing your story for all those couples who have been through similar situations.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Claire. I hope that sharing this will help other people share not only their story of miscarriage, but any story that can help themselves heal and help others.
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