It’s Always Darkest Before the Dawn

It’s cliché. But I think it’s true. Life is a river of moments. Time is the current that propels you forward from one moment to the next. You cannot freeze the happy moments just as you cannot move more quickly through the painful ones. In the darkest of moments we forget about that river and imagine that this moment, this pain, is all that there is and all that there will be. But if we can survive this dark moment, inevitably another one will follow; and another, and another, and another. There is a lifetime of moments to come. I have to remember that.

When I started thinking about this title for my next blog post it was under entirely different circumstances. You see this week was to be the week I let everyone in on a secret. We got pregnant. Again. Almost immediately following our loss in October. It was a shock. I was hesitant but happy. I felt it was a reward for surviving my previous heartbreak. This entry was supposed to be my moment of light. My dawn. And instead, I am sitting here reminding myself that all moments will pass. Even these very dark ones.

I won’t go into the details because you can read my post from October and all you would have to do is add the word “again” to each sentence. Just before New Years, we heard the baby’s heartbeat and immediately felt relief. In the following weeks, I was so sick that it was undeniable that everything seemed to be progressing the right way. We were almost at that second trimester. And last Thursday, going in for an ultrasound and genetic testing, laying there on the table exposed and vulnerable, I heard those words. Again. There is no heartbeat.

It was in this moment that the floor fell from beneath me and I lost my composure entirely. No no no no no no. This cannot be happening. Not again. You fool. You idiot. How could you think that you would have a happy ending. I cannot be here again. Not again. 

It was 36 hours from when I was happily pregnant, driving to the doctors appointment to when Brian picked me up, post-op and empty from the hospital. Empty. Again.

These moments are almost unbearable. Earlier I had written of the many different voices to my grief. However, now, this time, there is only one. Rage. I have been betrayed by my body, by medicine, by God and the Universe. I hate everything and everyone. This anger is consuming and does not discriminate. I have worked tirelessly for the last 3 days to bottle this beast but I can feel it tearing at my seams. Every moment is as though I may be ripped apart by this feeling. I am desperately grasping at threads to hold it together.

Since August, I have been pregnant for 18 weeks. My body has worked so hard, twice, and here I am with nothing to show for it. I am angry. 

In the last months, I have been to baby showers, some friends have had babies, and others have shared their pregnancy announcements. And the thing that made it all bearable after our loss was that soon it would be me, too. But now it won’t be. I’m fucking angry. 

I can feel the anger and hate welling up inside of me. Feeling this way hurts. I don’t want to resent my friends’ happiness or feel the need to rip down papers in Mere’s daycare announcing that yet another of her classmates is a big brother or sister. I don’t want to feel this way but the truth is, after going through this yet again, I do. I worked so hard to get beyond the sadness and the anger the first time. But apparently it wasn’t enough because here I am, in this moment, with these feelings… again.

Brian asked me if I was going to blog about this loss and I wasn’t sure until last night. Because this moment; I feel it. I can feel this dark moment taking hold and I’m afraid. This moment. This helpless, hopeless, hateful moment feels like tar. To my 80’s cult movie fans… have you seen The Never Ending Story? Remember the Swamp of Sadness? Remember Artax? 

Artax

Well… Me = Artax

I’m not trying to freak anyone out. I’m being honest. I’m self-aware. So I have to go get my brain right. I have to find a way to see the moments beyond this swamp of sadness. I have to because I am not the only one depending on my mental health. As we were leaving for school today, Mere made a comment about Mommy being sad. She sees it. She knows something is wrong. We are very intune with each other and if she already feels it, that means I’m about a day late in taking action. So this morning I pulled my shit together the best I could and made a plan:

  1. I bought a stupid Gratitude Journal. I know, I know – it’s not stupid I just feel stupid. I need something to get me to focus on the good moments instead of living in these dark ones.
  2. I have decided to skip this blogging thing for a while and just write the old fashioned way – every day, with a pen, in a book. I spend too much time trying to write blogs with punny finesse. Which takes more time. Which leads to fewer entries. I need to get my feelings out every day.
  3. For fucks sake – get exercising again. Walk, run, bike. Whatever it takes to expel the venom building inside.
  4. Find a therapist. I wholeheartedly believe in this approach. Though it has been a while now, I think this might be the time I really need someone outside of my life to help give me a little inside perspective.

And while I don’t blame myself for these losses, I will punish myself if given the opportunity. I’m an emotional cutter. And as a result, I’m going to take a social media mental health break. I can’t be using these things to torture myself, watching other people’s highlights, if I really want to get past my dark moments. 

A wise woman once said…

“Life is a river of moments. Time is the current that propels you forward from one moment to the next. You cannot freeze the happy moments just as you cannot move more quickly through the painful ones. In the darkest of moments we forget about that river and imagine that this moment, this pain, is all that there is and all that there will be. But if we can survive this dark moment, there will be a lifetime of moments to come.”

Am I trying to pass off my first paragraph as some ancient wisdom? You bet your ass I am. And while I’m all silent on Facebook and Instagram, if you want to talk, check in or whatever, I’m still around – DM, text, email or you know even that phone thing will do.

 

3 thoughts on “It’s Always Darkest Before the Dawn

  1. Sorry for your heartbreak. The steps you are taking sound like a good plan. It’s okay to feel all the feelings, even with Mere. We want to be strong for our children, but let her help you through this too, that’s their gift. This sucks and you will get to the other side, whatever that is for you.
    I wish you strength to grieve however much and however most you need. I wish you to give yourself permission to fall apart in whichever way you need to bring yourself back together in a new way. I wish you positivity , not the sunshine and rainbows crap, but the true positivity that shows itself as perseverance, the kind that helps you get through when you need it most. I wish you peace and acceptance and love. You are not alone, just take it one moment at a time and try not to be too hard on yourself. ( Easier said than done) love you 💗

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s