When It All Suddenly Changes

One day it was fine, and the next it was not. One day you’re dreaming about how it will be, and then…you wake up. One day you’re pregnant and expecting and writing in your weekly journal, and then suddenly you see blood. I think every woman instinctively knows when this happens to her, she knows what it means, what’s happening…the sick feeling, the shock, the cold dread that seizes your heart…no no no…you try and trick yourself that its probably nothing, even though you know deep down…you try to ignore it and go about your day, but its there…you are hyper aware of every sensation, every trickle…people can’t see, can’t tell, but it’s happening, seeping away even as you sit on the bus or in a meeting or wait in line at the pharmacy…the chance that is flitting away and you are powerless to stop it…

You make the call, and walk into the clinic, wondering who else around you is going through this too…you know the statistics, they don’t mean anything to you, they don’t matter, because this is you, this is your baby, these are your feelings, this is your experience…even when the doctor tells you not to worry you still do…you still wonder if there was anything you could have done differently at any point that would have taken this in a different direction…if it was your fault that you didn’t eat well enough or rest enough or didn’t carry that heavy bag that day…I remember wondering if it was the fact that I had pushed my 2-year old in his stroller up the hill earlier that week…

You lie on the table for the ultrasound, and the technician doesn’t say much…you try to understand what’s on the screen, try to see something, anything…and they don’t explain it to you, and tell you to wait for the doctor, and you get that its protocol, or policy or whatever the hell it is, but in that moment you need urgently for that person who can see or understand what’s on the monitor to look you in the eye and see you, and see what you’re going though…and feel what you feel. The fear, the anxiety, the anger, the confusion, the helplessness, the sadness, the frustration, all swirling and swirling…you try to talk yourself down and wait for the doctor, fidgeting while trying not to…you wonder if you actually managed to keep absolutely still that you could stop it…if it’s possible to hold it in by sheer willpower and determination…

The doctor looks at the screen and says robotically: “there’s no heartbeat…we will have to get you a blood test to measure the hormone levels…” and your heart stops too…and you sit up and swing your legs over and wonder if you have the strength to stand up…and where you will find the energy to smile at the doctor and thank them as if they’re doing something nice to you…the tears well up but you struggle to hold them in like you’re struggling to hold on to the pregnancy…but this is hard. So hard.

They tell you to go home and rest…to wait it out…that it might pass on its own, and as you wait in limbo, days, weeks…for this to be over, you go about your days, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, talking to people, working, pretending like nothing is happening to you at the same time…you might take a few days off work but sitting at home doesn’t help either…the thoughts and feelings are with you wherever you may be, and the dreams at night even worse, so sleep is no reprieve…

The blood tests annoy you, and your dependence on the numbers offend you, and you are angry with the faceless people at the clinic…and one moment you feel something bulge and slide, and you pause to catch it…puzzled…then you realize that that’s it…no matter what week you are you know…and you wonder what to do with it, and if it’s worth calling someone, and who to call…and what to say…you sit with it alone, and then you make yourself get up and carry on…but this is hard. So hard.

These moments never really leave you, they’re always there, a part of you, the wondering “what if” and pausing for a brief while every year on the date, the bittersweet feelings…even if you do have others before or after, that one is different…people who know may offer platitudes but they’re empty, and sometimes hurtful. It shouldn’t be dismissed or gaslit, it was real…it was hard, and we feel like we failed, even if we know it isn’t true. It takes time to move on, and we rarely allow ourselves to grieve about it, and we aren’t offered enough support and comfort to process it…we deserve better, we should honor these experiences and feel them, and give ourselves the space we need for these moments in our lives…but this is hard…So hard.

If you are going through a similar experience or have had one please know that you are not alone in this, you can ask for help and support, you can ask questions and you can feel what you need to feel…it is common but you don’t have to suffer it…with help and support you will be well