Too many moments

(I wrote this 4 days ago and I was really struggling. Today is fine but I had just had one of those days where the grief hit like a wave.

***Trigger warning. It may get a bit TMI in regards to miscarriage.***

It’s a pretty good insight into what goes on inside my head on bad days. I pretty much experience all the guilt and the hopelessness I tend to keep at bay for a bit; and I sort of get stuck on this negative loop of constantly re-living everything that happened and obsessing over what I can and can’t remember.

It might not make that much sense, but I decided to publish it as it is. Flaws and all. Normally I don’t publish these posts when I write them. They get deleted, but the point of this blog was an honest portrayal of my life after loss, so here it is, I figured there wasn’t anything to loose, and ig someone feels less alone in their feelings then great.)

Today I am angry.
I am tired.
I am longing for a future that isn’t going to happen. Moments that won’t ever happen.

I am thinking. Am I making too big a deal out of my grief, shouldn’t this be lessened, be over, be something I can just live with?

Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he was ever real, as if he is so elusive that he never was at all. I regret so many things. Why didn’t I keep the test? Why didn’t I tell anyone.

Why didn’t I love them more, why did I resent the fact I was pregnant. Why did I try to run from it. Why did I never say I loved them, why did I deny that I did. Why why why why why.

Why didn’t I phone my partner?

Why didn’t I write something down.

I made shoes, but I forgot them. So the proof that they offer feels confusing. I blocked it out. I don’t remember a single day when I knew I was pregnant. I know what I felt, what I feared, but I don’t remember a single good thing about the days and moments following knowing and loosing. I was in a daze and I don’t remember much at all of what I was doing. All I have are fragments and they’re not ones I am proud of.

At one point I must have made up my mind. Making baby shoes implies that you’re thinking of a living baby. Of having a baby.

I remember the days before, when we went to Felbrig and the brakes on the car stopped working. I remember thinking, hang on, when was my last period, shouldn’t it be here now? I remember deciding not to think about is as didn’t this always happen? My cycle is never that regular anyway I thought. I enjoyed the day and we took the one family photo that I will always treasure because it has Emmet in it too, although we didn’t know then.

I remeber feeling sick and thinking ‘oh shit’. But I tried to tell myself it was like all the other times I was sick, I had probably over done it the day before, it happens when I’m tired. I threw up twice.

I remeber my hands shaking as I bought the test packet as I tried not to look the pharmacist in the eye. I remeber the two pink lines. It was a Wednesday. I shoved it in the bin and buried it under as many things as I could.

Thursday I saw my partner. I know this because it is on my callender. I don’t remember seeing him.

I remember both signing up to the baby centre app and looking at the Marie Stopes page. I remember thinking, I cannot have a baby. I just can’t. I also know at some point I made the shoes, at some point I must have spent two hours or so imagining a future with a living baby. I know I thought my partner would be a good Dad, I know I imagined him with ‘them’. I knew the risks. I knew what their life could be like. I live it every day. I live the pain every day.

I thought. You don’t tell anyone until you know what you are doing. I know I thought I would keep ‘it’ after I saw my partner. I thought that it could work. I know I changed my mind later that day when I dislocated three fingers opening my bedroom door.

I would not do that to a child.

I know I was googling pregnancy and baby care at 12.06 am, because I remeber looking at the clock and thinking I should get some sleep. I had to go to an open day Saturday morning at the UEA. I switched off the light and I felt another cramp, but worse than the ones I had had earlier.

I thought they were just because I had perhaps eaten something I shouldn’t.

I never had spotting it just happened. I had the lights turned off and I ignored what was happening. I hoped it would go away.

It got worse. The pain. Everything got worse. I crawled to the shower and stayed there until about 4 am. It would not stop. I begged whatever powers could be bothering to listen to make it stop. It didn’t. Not for days.

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