This is a continuation of me sharing my thoughts from back when I first lost my son Kai at eighteen weeks pregnant, if you do not want to read about this because it will upset you, don’t worry that is absolutely fine.
It didn’t take very long for me to lose energy for a blog, therefore I stopped posting on the site altogether, I did however continue to write a dairy.
Before I must say, I am so sorry to anyone that reads this that knows me, I do enjoy your company, at the time I was so tired, this wasn’t really that long afterwards. It was actually the 7th of march, my husbands birthday. Hence one of the reasons his family came down, they also kept saying they would go, but me being me (always worried people will think that I am antisocial) kept telling them it was OK to stay because I didn’t want to upset them. They didn’t actually stay that long to be honest and while they were there I didn’t want to put my sadness onto them. I didn’t want them to see how much of a wreck I was, I didn’t want them to worry about me; so I tried to act how I thought I should act, strong.
I’m sure most people that have lost babies can say at on point or another they put on a brave face, it is draining, its draining to listen to other people talk and block out the voices in your head, or you inner monologue going on and on and on.
Therefore, dear Tom’s family, if you do ever read this, I love you all exactly the way you are. I know how upset you all were for me and Tom, I wish I hadn’t felt this way. I wish we had gone out for Tom’s birthday and not worried about this. I wish I had still been pregnant, we were due to have our twenty week scan that week. In fact we wouldn’t have seen you at all that day because that was going to be the day we found out if we were having a boy or a girl. Toms birthday present.
I remember the lady at the reception giving me that date for our scan, I remember how happy I was to know that it would be on that day. I thought it would be good because Tom would get his birthday off work (how trivial now).
I do want to say thank-you, you distracted me from that I remember the day coming and going but I was too distracted to fully concentrate on what it meant. You distracted me so much I didn’t think about it enough to mention it in my blog post, or enough to dwell on it until 3AM.
So here’s my fourth blog post (and final but not my final planned post)
My newest delusion of the week: ‘Maybe its because I had dental issues’. While pregnant I had incredibly poor gums they seemed to bleed constantly, therefore I may have occasionally not brushed my teeth because they hurt. Yes on the top of my list was go to the dentist I was in fact awaiting my appointment. However shit happened and now my gums don’t bleed but I am also not pregnant.
Lesson number nine: It probably wasn’t my teeth (though i’m sure I will convince myself again at some point that it was)
Today has been hard, my husbands family decided to visit, all of them. Now I like his family, and so does he, and i’m generally not one to complain about good company, however, I really could not be bothered with a five hour visit. I was already tired from the day before after a particularly uncomfortable trip to have a pedicure. While originally I had enjoyed using the massage chair whilst having a pedicure, I had started to feel surprisingly claustrophobic (which I have never felt before) as the massage chair was going ape shit at my poor back, it felt as if it was going to beat me up and leave me for dead. I tried very eloquently, to explain to the lady scrubbing my hideous feet (ask any nurse about her feet) that it was a tad rough, unfortunately she didn’t speak English, stupidly I tried to use pretend sign language to explain the situation, this resulted in the massage chair being turned up to a higher setting. I gave up and zoned out at the wall until I felt better. Needless to say I wont be going back for a pedicure for a while.
Lesson number ten: Apparently pedicures and massage chairs are a bad idea while physically recovering from a miscarriage (I mean your welcome to try it but perhaps not the massage chair ay?)
My poor midwife would despair, I have already been told off for a day trip to Ikea.
Regardless my husbands family spent the day sandwiching me in the middle of the sofa telling me I look tired. Meanwhile my husband was zoning out at the ceiling as we can only talk about the miscarriage for so long before we become emotionally drained. This all culminated in an angry trip to Morrison’s, where my husband spent half an hour stomping around demanding cake and sweets like a child. On top of that to make me feel better, he told me I must be losing weight as my boobs are smaller. Thankyou very much. Dear husband (or what ever the internet folk call them)