Healing...It's a Process

The nonstop, heavy-hearted question I get on a daily basis following the miscarriage is, "How are you?"  Usually I respond that I'm just fine, which for the most part is true.  I'm fine and I'm trying to stay positive.  I'm counting down the days that we can start again and start over.  Some days go by, and I surprise myself that I got through without once thinking about the miscarriage.  I carry forward.

Yet, some days are hard.  Some days I've cried harder than I've ever cried in my life.  I've had days that my crying makes me so angry, I find myself praying that the tears will stop flowing.  I wonder when these melt downs are going to stop.  I wonder if I'm crazy; am I thinking too much?  Why am I so emotional over someone I had no connection with?  I never felt a movement, never saw a heartbeat.  Never knew anything was there if it wasn't for those two pink lines that told me otherwise.  Some days start out fine, then I get in the car, turn on the radio and hear Mumford and Sons "I Will Wait" and completely break down, feeling people staring at me and my sobbing self while we're stopped at the red light.  Or other nights while we're watching Teen Mom or Snooki tend to their babies, and I think to myself, how is life so unfair?  

Some days I'm bitter, and if you've been around me on one of these days, I apologize.  These are the days when people ask, "How are you?" and I feel like answering, "Well, the baby my husband and I have been praying for for months is dead, I'm depressed and can't seem to find happiness in anything right now.  How is YOUR life?"  Or when I get friends announcing their pregnancies, texting and posting their excitement on Facebook, all I really want to say is, "Don't you KNOW I just miscarried!? Why would you even share this news with me?  Of course I'm not interested in knowing you're pregnancy was more successful than mine!" (as much as my cynical self would like to answer this way, I don't, don't worry.  Plus, most people don't even know about my miscarriage, so how can any of it be their fault!  It's not.  It's just me being unnecessarily bitter and mean).  

Mostly, the biggest struggle I get through is the "What ifs" or the "One days", like the dates I have imprinted in my mind: Today, February 11th, would have been the day we were to hear our baby's heartbeat.  My iPhone calendar even had the nerve to remind me this morning: "Doppler with Dr. Juarez @ 8:45!" The exclamation mark at the end of that pop-up reminder poured salt into my already ripped open wound.  September 5th, the due date, will always be a day fresh in my mind.  Seeing these dates and living through them is like a swift punch in the stomach.  Same exact feeling, but unfortunately a much deeper punch.

Really, I've healed quite a bit both physically and emotionally in the last few weeks, and only with the help of Jason, my family and close friends being my support.  And ice cream.  Ice cream helps a lot too.  I love each one of these supporters and can't thank them enough for being there for me- for listening to me, crying with me, distracting me, making me laugh, lending me your babies to snuggle, or even just sitting with me saying nothing.  It helps.

I've had my moments of pity parties and sob-fests.  As hard as I try to move on and keep a positive outlook, some days are just hard.  I keep telling myself this is healthy and this is just part of the process.  Yet I find myself wondering how long this process will last, and can't help but feel like I'm not really going to move on until we get pregnant for a second time.  I feel ashamed and selfish for feeling that way, but maybe that's just my healing process.  Sometimes I feel like I should be over it by now, and even wonder if people think this is even dramatic writing another entry about the miscarriage.  Yet, again, my healing process includes talking it out and writing it down, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to get me to a better place emotionally.

So to answer that oh-so-common question:  I'm ready to move on, but it's not a smooth ride getting there.  It's a roller coaster of emotions, but I'm ready to be smiling more than not.  Most of all, I'm more hopeful and confident (even more than before we got pregnant the first time).  I'm hopeful that things will fall in place correctly this time and soon, and I'm confident they will be better this time around based on what we've learned from our tragedy.  If anything, our miscarriage gave us the knowledge of how to carry a new pregnancy more successfully, and will make us extremely grateful and blessed when we do get pregnant again and finally get to hold our baby in our arms.