Time Marches On…

…whether I want it to or not.

It’s strange – all these little bouts of normalcy in the middle of a grief-stricken time. The cats still need to be fed, the dishes washed, my teeth brushed…time just refuses to stand still, even for a little while. Sometimes I wish it would – Why wouldn’t the world want to stop to mourn our baby? But most times I am grateful that it pushes forward. Afterall, time does heal.

Right now we are in a bubble, living in our own world on our own schedule. I find it so strange and heartbreaking that the world around us just keeps going as if nothing has happened. People say their kind words, and then get back to their life, sorry that it happened but thankful that it’s not happening to them. We appreciate all the support we’re given, but nothing really comforts us like the stories we hear of others that have been through the same thing.

I absolutely dread going back into the real world. I feel like I will break down at any moment – anytime I see a small child, or a pregnant woman; anytime someone asks us if we’re going to have kids soon (that was just annoying before this whole thing, now it will just be excruciatingly painful); anytime someone asks why I haven’t been at work for a while; anytime I go into a clothing store and see those little tiny socks for newborns…

I dread having to pretend that nothing happened, especially at work since no one really knows what has happened. Even if people do know, I feel like we have to say “we’re okay” so that we save them from the sadness, from the effort it takes of having to be around pain. It’s not fair to them, after all, for us to bring them down.

I’ve decided to not go in to work for the rest of the week. I am not going to the department Christmas party on Friday, and I’m contemplating skipping our group party on Sunday as well. I am emotionally and physically drained. DH has stayed with me so far, but eventually we won’t be able to be with each other 24 hours a day. What then? What will I do without him beside me?

The tone of this blog may change for a while…it may change for good…

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Comments on: "Time Marches On…" (11)

  1. Virtual hugs.

    I wish I knew what to say…

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  2. I'm so sorry and I remember talking to a close friend of mine this spring. She and her fiancee lost their baby in week 11 and she was very surprised about her feelings. She's a doctor and had encountered the situation from the “other side” so she thought she was prepared (or what you can say). She then got surprised that she wasn't, at all. Our conversations were mostly about the time moving so slow but still fast and the craziness that she seemed to see every pregnant woman in the world that month/summer… and the failure and shame that she knew she shouldn't feel but still did….

    Being a non-pregnant-non-mother-in-the-age-over-30 I have to say that I find the questions about “aren't you preparing babies now” annoying and stressful. Can't really imagine what it would feel like when you lost the baby My friend didn't know what to say either, as in “how much info do you give people”… and I don't know. It depends on the relationship I guess?

    I don't know, I ramble but I wanted to tell you something from someone who has gone through something similar what you and DH are going through. And my only little advice (that I got from my friend) would be to talk to each other and maybe talk to someone else too… and that it might take some time…

    I'm thinking of you and hope all goes well.

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  3. The ache will be intense for a while, but eventually it will start to fade. I remember feeling fine but then getting hit unexpectedly with a wave of sadness while doing something totally unrelated. Once I started crying while waiting for a man to bring me my Christmas tree from the back of the store. Once I started crying in the backseat of our realtor's car after looking at houses. Both of those times were within about a month of the loss. I also had one screaming fight with Ryan that seemed to help both of us release some of the frustration and sadness we were feeling.

    What helped me more than anything was when I happened to go to a class at my church that happened to have four OB nurses in it. I told them what happened and all of them were so incredibly sympathetic and kind. I don't remember what they said, but the attitude of support and understanding was so comforting.

    If you contact your hospital, they may have a support group for people who have had the same experience as you… you might find that helpful.

    I know it sounds trite, and you may not believe me now, and that is OK, but you will start to feel better one day. In the meantime, be kind to yourself. Get lots of rest, read silly books, watch movies… and let yourself be sad. And don't be afraid to lean on your husband. He sounds like a great guy.

    I wish I lived closer to you so I could help you in some tangible way. Sending virtual hugs for now.

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  4. Sending lots and lots of hugs your way….My heart is breaking for you and I wish you weren't going through this…but I think not going to work will be a good break, and then you can decided what to tell and not tell people.

    Thinking of you.

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  5. I have no idea what to say. I've had a SIL and BF go through miscarriages and both dealt with it differently. The only thing that I do know is that it hurts less with time. That's probably not what you want to hear though.

    It oks if the tone of your blog changes. We're all here for you, and we will say and do what you need us to do.

    Lots and lots of hugs.

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  6. I cannot relate to this in anyway, nor pretend that I know how you must be feeling. But I do know that you WILL get through this, even if it doesn't seem that way right now. You have the love and support of all your family, friends, and cyber-space friends/acquaintances (me included!).

    Much love to you.

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  7. I wasn't sure in my comment on your last post whether tales of friends and family who've been there too would help, or not. But I do know several people who've been through this, both before having their first child, and between children too. One of my best friends had two miscarriages in as many years, but now has a beautiful 5 month old daughter.

    Time does heal. You and DH take care of each other.

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  8. Thanks again for all of your comments and stories – it really helps to know that we're not alone in this, and that we have support of so many people.

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  9. I, too, wish I could do more than send virtual hugs. Taking a break from work and the work-related parties sounds like a good idea. Take care of yourself. And I hope that writing your feelings here helps you through this time–blogs are an outlet, and use yours in whatever way you need to.

    *hug*

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  10. I understand what you mean about not wanting to bring people down, but you've suffered a terrible loss and I don't think you should feel you have to hide it or pretend not to be sad when you go out into the real world. I can understand not wanting to tell people about it but maybe you could say that there was a “family problem” or “family emergency” or something like that.

    I wish there was something I could say that would make you feel better or some advice I could give that would ease the pain. All I can do is send virtual hugs and tell you that I'm thinking of you. I hope it helps even just a tiny bit.

    ((((HUGS))))

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  11. Alyssa, I'm so sorry for your loss. You were parents to this young life for such a short time, and it must be even harder because so many people around you would not be able to understand the magnitude of this loss. Thinking of you, and whatever one believes about what happens after life, you can keep going in loving memory.

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