Take My Pound of Flesh, Please! (Really You Can Have All 8)

so, this morning i’m teary and angry. the anger has many sides, but the big ones right now are:

a- i was totally duped into thinking i was pregnant for almost a month after i wasn’t. i feel like an idiot. or a crazy person. like i was making up all those symptoms. and did i will myself to not bleed because i was so convinced things were progressing along? that one seems kind of likely because as soon as i found out the baby had died, i started gushing blood and clots.

b- i am also angry that i told everyone i was pregnant- all gleeful and celebratory, now i’m having to come back, tail between my legs, to tell them it was a false alarm. and it means i’m dragging everyone i know through this shit with me. i think i was wrong to do that and if we try this again, i think i’ll keep it under my hat until i’m crowning.

c- and i’m angry that i dared to hope. i was so certain that things were going smoothly and that God had my back on this one, i stopped taking my temp as soon as i found out i was pregnant. had i continued, it would have started falling and i would have known a lot sooner that things had stopped in there. instead, i just went on my merry way, eating and laughing and accepting congratulations and baby outfits from everyone. and eating.

d- i have gained 8 lbs of fake baby weight. this last weekend i actually looked like i had a bit of a baby bump, which is nuts, cuz at best i would have been only 9 wks….now i know it was a swollen uterus full of blood that was pouching me out. but my love handles and fat face prove there’s more than just blood and water weight. i was eating with abandon, like i had something in me to support. and i swear i felt famished all the time. i think the hormones were still raging, like my body/mind hadn’t quite agreed that their was death and not life in there and had continued begging me to feed it. so now i am round without anything to show for it. so i ran this morning and i’m now on weight watchers strictly. i’m not messing around- if i can’t have a body that supports babies, the least i can do is have a babe’s body.

somewhere under all these layers of anger and self-loathing, i am also aware of the blessing it was to be able to carry life in me, even for a little while- and twice! it’s exciting and amazing and something i’ll always remember, even if that’s where it ends.

Comments

  1. Messy Moma

    I have no answers or advice,or words of false encouragement…. but we women just need listeners mostly right? So I am commenting so that you know I'm reading, I hear you, and I'm here with you and these things you write feel so true. love you

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