Sunday, November 30, 2014

Blue Christmas.... and Thanksgiving... and Easter....

Below is a post that I wrote around this time last year after yet another miscarriage. I didn't know that a blog was in my future, but I felt like getting my thoughts down on paper since the grief my husband and I were going through- around Christmas no less- was suffocating. I saved it and thought now would be a good time to share it with all of you. This is a tough season, one that is centered around constantly being "joyful" and it is also considered a children's holiday- sort of a double whammy if you are dealing with a pregnancy loss. I really hope that my experience helps some of you...

My miscarriages are always so ill-timed. Well, I guess there is never a good time, but mine always happen right before a holiday. The pattern was right around Easter, which (bonus!) always seems to be right near Mother's Day, and Thanksgiving. But last year after so much optimism and excitement, the rug was pulled out from under from me three weeks before Christmas. My husband and I were feeling so euphoric and looked forward to having my first trimester end right around the New Year. We thought it was such a fitting way to celebrate the holiday season; it all felt so serendipitous. Unfortunately the universe had other plans, and last year we found ourselves in a state of such disappointment and depression that my anger took over. I was so pissed that yet again loss was going to crap all over my favorite time of year. That my husband and I couldn't catch a break, and would have to spend another holiday season opening Christmas cards from friends with their kids on the front, knowing that another year has passed us by without children. 
I was venting my frustration to Kira shortly after and she said to me, "Take it back. Take back the holiday. Each day take something back for yourself." I thought about it and realized that it was the perfect piece of advice. I was just angry enough that it helped me get to a point of retaliation. I wanted to get back at the universe and assume some sort of control. Each day I tried something small;  I baked cookies, I pulled out the Christmas decorations, and unabashedly listened to Wham's "Last Christmas" on repeat. Though I still cried every day and had a difficult time reconciling that my expectations and hopes were yet again thwarted by reality, I also realized that my husband and I were alive and healthy. We were together, our marriage and love stronger than ever. Even though we would have to, yet again, go through another holiday without a child, we at least had each other. And to me that was worth celebrating.


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