The loss of both my pregnancies has definitely hit me harder that I have ever thought it would. I always thought I would be stronger than i have been. Before my first I was sure it seemed silly to love something so quickly and be so upset that it had gone.
But then it happened…. Twice…. Seeing the scan of my second angel made it worse, because the pregnancy was more real. It was my baby. There it was, on the screen, little heart beating away. Only to be told a few weeks later it had died and my body didn’t want to let go.
I’ve been a mum… Twice. I never saw baby 1 but I knew they were there. I knew it was inside me and I loved it from the second I saw that second line. For how ever breif… I was a mum. Baby 2 I saw but never felt, it made me feel sick and tired and everything it should. I was up all night needing a wee. I knew I was a mum. But I’m sorry baby 2 but it wasn’t your time. I can’t name you, I wish I could, but I don’t know if either of you were a boy or a girl. But you were my babies all the same. And I love you, I always will.
Grief catches hold of me when I think of you both. Of B1 held on I would be a mummy to a baby a few months old. If B2 had…. Well I would be getting excited over my second scan coming soon. And working out if I wanted to find out if you were going to be a Freddie or a Miya.
Grief is horrible. Today it hit me really hard when I got home. I came in, let the dogs out and crashed. It feels like I die inside. I can’t do anything I sit down and I don’t move… I cry and cry, until there are no more tears. And I go numb. I can’t do anything. Then I feel guilty for not being able to do anything and it makes me worse. I feel bad I can’t cook the dinner, or do the laundry or dishwasher. I feel awful that I just can’t do it. I have no motivation, no energy. I cried whilst making dinner. I didn’t want to do it. But I know I had to do something. Chris offered but I needed to do it for me. Prove to myself that I am still a person, that I can function even if I’m numb inside and out. If nothing.. I need to be able to feed myself.
How long will this last? Until I’m pregnant again? Until I have some joy back in my life? What if it takes another year? I can’t be like this for another year? It scares me. I’m scared I will push away the ones I live. Scared that I will never come through this and be a happy person. Scared the depression and anxiety I feel will never leave me. Will I always worry like I am right now? Will I be the social butterfly I used to be? Or will the anxiety stop me for good?