Let me start by saying I’m fine – healthy both physically and emotionally - drained in both senses, but fine. Let me also say that I’m not dramatic by nature – I’m not writing this blog for attention or pity or…I don’t even know. I write in hopes of reaching out to other people going through similar things. I write to quiet the voices that bounce around in my head. I write to be able and record my life and look back at where I’ve been. And it’s my hope to help other people by my own successes and failures.
Today’s blog isn’t weight loss related. But it is about me. This, ultimately, is what this blog is about.
Nearly a month ago, I got some great news. We were expecting. We hadn’t been trying per se, but we hadn’t been preventing either. We shouldn’t have been surprised; we’re such a great team at everything else in life that we should have been more prepared. But it did take us both by surprise. I can’t speak for my husband’s emotions – so I won’t. I can say that I was excited. I had been on the fence previously. That is, I have 2 teenagers who keep my busy and a financial planner who says that I’m 18 years away from a very comfortable retirement. But one evening, doing the math, I figured I was late by a few days. I told my husband what I suspected and we headed out to buy a test. I let him look at it first. When he showed it to me, I leapt decidedly OFF the fence and right into “I’m going to be a MOM again” land. I was apprehensive though. I’m older – 41, nearly 42. I’m finally finically comfortable. I’ve got a great job. My husband’s company is slow right now. So while there’s never the perfect time to have a baby, my brain went to all the ways to make all of that work.
About a week or so after the test, I started spotting. Just a little. Nothing much. But I think I knew. And it got worse but never horrible. I was in limbo and a little bit of denial. I’ll skip the details but it was confirmed yesterday that I did miscarry. And we’ve decided that we won’t be trying again – ever. Between the stress of finding out, the stress of not knowing what was going on with my body, the emotions that flooded my body and brain during this entire process – it’s been quite a ride. Not one I ever want to take again.
Part of me feels relief – no middle of the night feedings, diaper changing, cold meals, spit up rags, tantrums, figuring out day care, preschools, schools, homework, vacations, budgeting, etc. And part of me feels utter grief (that word just isn't enough sometimes)– no middle of the night feedings, diaper changing, cold meals, spit up rags, tantrums, figuring out day care, preschools, schools, homework, vacations, budgeting, etc.
I didn’t know how much I wanted this baby until my husband showed me the test. And I didn’t know how much it hurt to lose a baby I wanted so much for reasons I will never know. I’ve cried more over the last 3 weeks than I’ve cried in my entire lifetime combined. Wracking sobs in the shower every morning. The bleeding has stopped, when do the tears stop? And people have noticed. I’m a cheery person by nature…usually the one causing laughter in the room, finding the bright side of everything. But not lately.
And I haven’t told many people. How do you tell them? How do I explain what happened without sounding dramatic? I’m not looking for sympathy, I don’t want people to feel put on the spot for finding the exact right thing to say to comfort me, I don’t even know the words to use to tell them. It’s awkward.
Timing wise it’s been convenient – my dog died yesterday. (a blog for another time). He was part of our family for 6.5 years. And it was sudden. Cancer they think. But I got caught crying at work. It was after the phone call from my doctor. But it was easier to say my dog was sick. And later, when I couldn’t control my sobbing, I was in an empty office when a co-worker came to check on me. What a mess I was. It was easier to only explain a portion of my grief – my dog had indeed died. And that was all I said. I didn’t say that I lost a child as well. That I lost a dream. That my tears were for so many things lost in a matter of minutes. I miss our dog. But we can get another and grow just as attached. The rest is just gone forever.
So – stress. Hormones. Eating. Sleeping poorly. Not exercising (save for a 10k on 7/4/10 and then an 8k this weekend which I’ll write up in a cheerier post tomorrow). It’s been my July. My weight has been relatively stable telling me that while I feel like the tidal wave of old habits has flooded my life may merely be a smaller surfing wave, I still feel like a failure.
But I know what I need to do – and I have a triathlon in September to train for. And I have 2 teenagers, one husband, and a remaining dog that need me. And my husband’s on board. He wants to get in better shape, for himself and to support me. So I’ll begin again. Because, well, just because that’s what I do.
If you’ve made it through this epic blog, thank you. I am not putting this out there for sympathy or pity or drama or…fill in the blank. I’m just putting it out there because my brain is crowded and I need some room. I’ve got calories to count and that my friend takes LOTS of room in my brain.
Let me add as well – to my friends who know me in real life – I haven’t brought this up to you because I don’t know how. If it’s something you want to talk about, feel free to bring it up. I’m open. And you won’t say the wrong thing, I know it all comes from a caring place. I DO want to talk about it – I’m just not sure how. Hugs are always accepted.
TTFN,
LauraLynne
Today’s blog isn’t weight loss related. But it is about me. This, ultimately, is what this blog is about.
Nearly a month ago, I got some great news. We were expecting. We hadn’t been trying per se, but we hadn’t been preventing either. We shouldn’t have been surprised; we’re such a great team at everything else in life that we should have been more prepared. But it did take us both by surprise. I can’t speak for my husband’s emotions – so I won’t. I can say that I was excited. I had been on the fence previously. That is, I have 2 teenagers who keep my busy and a financial planner who says that I’m 18 years away from a very comfortable retirement. But one evening, doing the math, I figured I was late by a few days. I told my husband what I suspected and we headed out to buy a test. I let him look at it first. When he showed it to me, I leapt decidedly OFF the fence and right into “I’m going to be a MOM again” land. I was apprehensive though. I’m older – 41, nearly 42. I’m finally finically comfortable. I’ve got a great job. My husband’s company is slow right now. So while there’s never the perfect time to have a baby, my brain went to all the ways to make all of that work.
About a week or so after the test, I started spotting. Just a little. Nothing much. But I think I knew. And it got worse but never horrible. I was in limbo and a little bit of denial. I’ll skip the details but it was confirmed yesterday that I did miscarry. And we’ve decided that we won’t be trying again – ever. Between the stress of finding out, the stress of not knowing what was going on with my body, the emotions that flooded my body and brain during this entire process – it’s been quite a ride. Not one I ever want to take again.
Part of me feels relief – no middle of the night feedings, diaper changing, cold meals, spit up rags, tantrums, figuring out day care, preschools, schools, homework, vacations, budgeting, etc. And part of me feels utter grief (that word just isn't enough sometimes)– no middle of the night feedings, diaper changing, cold meals, spit up rags, tantrums, figuring out day care, preschools, schools, homework, vacations, budgeting, etc.
I didn’t know how much I wanted this baby until my husband showed me the test. And I didn’t know how much it hurt to lose a baby I wanted so much for reasons I will never know. I’ve cried more over the last 3 weeks than I’ve cried in my entire lifetime combined. Wracking sobs in the shower every morning. The bleeding has stopped, when do the tears stop? And people have noticed. I’m a cheery person by nature…usually the one causing laughter in the room, finding the bright side of everything. But not lately.
And I haven’t told many people. How do you tell them? How do I explain what happened without sounding dramatic? I’m not looking for sympathy, I don’t want people to feel put on the spot for finding the exact right thing to say to comfort me, I don’t even know the words to use to tell them. It’s awkward.
Timing wise it’s been convenient – my dog died yesterday. (a blog for another time). He was part of our family for 6.5 years. And it was sudden. Cancer they think. But I got caught crying at work. It was after the phone call from my doctor. But it was easier to say my dog was sick. And later, when I couldn’t control my sobbing, I was in an empty office when a co-worker came to check on me. What a mess I was. It was easier to only explain a portion of my grief – my dog had indeed died. And that was all I said. I didn’t say that I lost a child as well. That I lost a dream. That my tears were for so many things lost in a matter of minutes. I miss our dog. But we can get another and grow just as attached. The rest is just gone forever.
So – stress. Hormones. Eating. Sleeping poorly. Not exercising (save for a 10k on 7/4/10 and then an 8k this weekend which I’ll write up in a cheerier post tomorrow). It’s been my July. My weight has been relatively stable telling me that while I feel like the tidal wave of old habits has flooded my life may merely be a smaller surfing wave, I still feel like a failure.
But I know what I need to do – and I have a triathlon in September to train for. And I have 2 teenagers, one husband, and a remaining dog that need me. And my husband’s on board. He wants to get in better shape, for himself and to support me. So I’ll begin again. Because, well, just because that’s what I do.
If you’ve made it through this epic blog, thank you. I am not putting this out there for sympathy or pity or drama or…fill in the blank. I’m just putting it out there because my brain is crowded and I need some room. I’ve got calories to count and that my friend takes LOTS of room in my brain.
Let me add as well – to my friends who know me in real life – I haven’t brought this up to you because I don’t know how. If it’s something you want to talk about, feel free to bring it up. I’m open. And you won’t say the wrong thing, I know it all comes from a caring place. I DO want to talk about it – I’m just not sure how. Hugs are always accepted.
TTFN,
LauraLynne
Comments
Think how amazing it is that you mananged to keep your weight under control during a crazy time.
i am so sorry!