Thoughts on a pillow

Ok, warning, this one is deep (at least for me).

I put my head to the pillow last night like I have every night my entire life.  But I couldn't sleep.

I had a wonderful meeting last night that lasted till almost midnight!  I was reminiscing about the laughter the group of women shared.  What fantastic ladies!!!  I am so blessed to know them.  Then my mind shifted gears, and out of nowhere...  It is remarkable to me - the body's memory.  There was nothing yesterday that triggered the feelings/memories that came up, but my mind and body just remembered and out it came.   This is something I wrote within that time, that I was remembering:

"Twelve days since my body collapsed on the floor as I received the phone call from our midwife that our pregnancy had failed to progress - our baby did not make it. Nine days since my little one's growing body separated from mine and I miscarried, becoming empty of our pregnancy.

Nights seem to scroll by, each one ending with the quiet loneliness that only grief can bring. Heavy and still as though the world has actually stopped turning. Peace. During the day, life continues whether I am within it or not. M, our daughter, keeps me anchored in the 'now'; she is my strength and happiness. In quiet moments, though, I feel my wheels slipping, failing to catch hold of the normalcy that pulls each day in to the next. I can not seem to really breath. I fill my lungs to their capacity yet still feel like I can not get enough air. I write and write, yet I can not seem to empty my sadness, guilt, anger or heartache and leave them behind. It refills faster than my pen can move.

Everyone moves on, slipping back in to the swing of life. My husband, stepping forward, stepping forward, stepping forward; leaving me. Talk of work, of frustrations in politics, anger at the main entrance lock of our home for not working properly. I close my eyes and breathe; I know he is grieving, but we do it so differently. Through the day, I empathize, I touch his hand, I try to see past what seems to me like mindless issues. Until the end of the day comes and I am just tired of hearing about "stuff". He asks why I seem upset with him and my 'nice shield' shatters. I respond, "you seem more upset with work than..." "than with the loss of our pregnancy" he finishes. He gets up and leaves the room.

Hours have passed.  He came in from the garage, I handed M over to him and I went out to the park to shed my tears. My hands fall on the cool soil in the full moon. "I miss you so much... I am so sorry". I don't feel alone there."

This was written almost two years ago, a couple of weeks after I miscarried.  I'm not sure why specifically I am posting this.  Just that little voice in my heart telling me to post it.  Maybe it will help someone?  Statistics vary, but for the most part, I hear that 1 in 5 pregnancies  end in miscarriage.  I did not know it was so common, nor how many people around me miscarried until I did.  It is a very different kind of grief and mourning. 

When I became pregnant, life shifted for me as I can't speak for certain, but I think it does for many women.  You become so primal.  Everything you put in your body, your emotions, everything shifts to a new focus - survival of that little being growing.  Your future changes the instant you find out you are pregnant and a bond forms.  I spent months wrapping my head around a second, bonding with him (we both felt it was a little boy), and in one phone call, life seemed to explode and everything I was investing in unraveled.  What I believed spiritually came in to play, "do I believe that pregnancy was a being?  Do I believe there was a soul there?  Was it just a collection of cells? etc."  I think that is why miscarriage is so different for each woman that experiences it.  Even if you believe it was just a collection of cells, your dreams, your 'forever after' of being a parent to this being, just ends.

That was not quite two years ago.   This month, our baby would have been 1 year old.  There are anniversaries that some people keep when they have gone through similar loss.  I never wanted to remember, but apparently my body has.  It is very wise, I think. 

This would have been our second child.  I was terrified and so in love while I was pregnant.  I went to sleep each night with my hand on my tum, just to connect.  My "Baby Roo".  When I miscarried, I couldn't help but think my fears of how I'd make it all work ended that life.  I remember, for the first time in my life, hating a word!  "Empty".  My body was empty of that magic, that love, that growing little one, those weeks, months following.  One word had the power to just break my heart all over again in the blink of an eye.  "No word should have that power", I thought, half-heartedly chuckling.  The word has since become more benign thankfully.

There will be events in life that happen that just plain suck.  But this time in my life brought me a lot as much as it did take away.  While I carried that little one, I had plain ol' magic and love at a whole other level.  I don't believe that a soul's power ends, so I try to carry that magic and love forward in my life now.  It is a part of my days, my appreciation of things.  My family rallied around me.  My sister took my daughter in the tough times the days following.  My mom dropped everything to be here with us as well.  I knew they loved me, but seeing the depth of their love in action meant the world.  I am thankful for all of those things and if I had to pay a thousand times for it, I wouldn't choose to do it differently. Ultimately, my life is better for that soul being a part of it, even for the short amount of time it was.

In yesterday's post, I wrote about a garden.  This seems crude, out of context, but I believe when we suffer loss in our lives, especially the lives of those we have come to love, or the dreams we have, the physical is gone, but we carry the nutrients and positive energy forward to enrich our lives.  Kinda like compost.  I know, it sounds crude, but it articulates the point.  What seems 'gone', 'over' (the loss, the heartache, the death of a dream), will deepen, nourish and add to our lives if we can decipher the gifts and know where to put it in our lives now.  

Last night, my last thoughts were speaking to that little soul out there, wondering what life would have been with two kiddos, how M would have been as a sibling... When I was a kid, I used to fall asleep composing my dreams, willling myself to dream of certain things (I think that is why I slept so well!).  Last night, I asked Life to just give me one dream, "to see that little one just once".  

It didn't happen.  ha ha...  but you know what?  I'll pay it forward in my day today.  I will live life with love and magic today.  I'll live life fully with strength in honour of that spirit out there, so it will always be with me.  I called my sister and thanked her for what she did for me then and told her to not hesitate to let me be there for her.  Maybe that soul was there to make she and I stronger.  I will call my mom later today.  What can I say, she is my rock, she deserves to hear it again.  And I'm going to achieve a goal today - I'm going to do a thousand kicks!  :)  Maybe I'll be with some good friends today. 

A lot of months have passed.  I do have a new normal in my life.  I will never be the same as before I miscarried.  I don't want to be.  Does it get easier?  Yes.  Is it still heartbreaking to remember the loss?  yes.  It will bring me to tears instantly (I haven't cried this much in months as I have writing this!!).  Am I still angry?  Yup, but I'll beat it out of that heavy bag later on, I'll tell you that much!  ha ha.  But I think it is part of well-being to honour these feelings, express them.  Maybe even let them out, and who knows, maybe they will make someone's life better or help someone who needs to know they are not alone, and that soul will keep bringing light in to other people's lives too. 

So, today is in honour of that magic and love.  I will live today well.

1,000 kicks later.  :)