Grieving and Learning to Be Okay

witter (ˈwɪtə)
vb – (often foll by: on) to chatter or babble pointlessly or at unnecessary length
n – pointless chat; chatter

COLLINS ENGLISH DICTIONARY – COMPLETE AND UNABRIDGED, 12TH EDITION 2014 © HARPERCOLLINS PUBLISHERS 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2011, 2014

writing life updates

I normally shy away from posting things online that I consider “too personal.” But at the same time, I also believe in sharing some of life’s difficulties with you. Because I know I’m not the only one who goes through things like this, and maybe hearing my voice will help those of you who have or are going through similar situations as well.

Earlier this year, we decided to be open to the idea of having another kid. Most of you have probably heard me mention my son. He’s five now (wow), was something of a miracle baby, and loves me so much, I find it impossible to have a bad day with him around. But back to my story…

A couple of months ago, I found out I was pregnant for the first time in five years.

I knew it was a possibility, but that didn’t stop me from freaking out. Why did I freak out about growing a new human being besides the obvious reasons? Because I had a lot of trouble having my firstborn. I lost two pregnancies before I was able to carry my son full term. Even then, the first few weeks, I was terrified something would happen to him.

I didn’t want to be excited about the new bun in the oven but found myself slowly growing accustomed to the idea. Parts of me were tentatively excited. We scheduled a doctor’s appointment a couple more weeks down the road and started to prepare ourselves for big future changes. And then I lost the pregnancy. I won’t go into details, for those of you who don’t know. Suffice to say, it’s an awful experience, physically, emotionally, even spiritually.

I was devastated.

Like I said, I’ve been through this before, and I knew what to expect. I think the worst of it was that I got over my initial fears and started to believe it would be okay this time. For several weeks, I had to go back and forth to my doctor for blood tests and other reasons I won’t go into here. One thing I did let myself do this time, is cry as much as I needed to. I tend to keep those tears in whenever possible because I can’t afford to fall apart when I have a kid who needs me. But the first several nights, I just let myself cry. After this, I pushed it all aside so I could refocus on work, on my family, and on healing.

I thought it was something I could get over quickly.

After all, I wasn’t as far along this time, and my body did most of the work for me. I had experienced miscarriages before and knew what to expect. I knew how to stop myself from falling into too much despair, and pull myself back from that edge when I felt it on the periphery. But I suppose we can tell ourselves all day long how to “deal” or “feel.” We can’t force ourselves to grieve properly. 

The truth is, a part of me is still grieving.

It sneaks up on me randomly, at odd moments throughout the week. The biggest sign I’ve discovered the past month is my struggle to care about things the way I should. I haven’t talked about this miscarriage very much. I only told a handful of people in person. I hadn’t even told all of my closest friends because it was difficult to talk about. Not to mention, while I’ve been going through this, there are people in my life who have been through so much worse in recent weeks.

But back to those little signs, and caring. Writing actually was one of the things that has helped get me through all this. I purposely didn’t set a schedule for my stories the last couple of months. I’ve written whatever I feel like at the moment, just so long as I’m still writing. So it was strange when I slowly came to these moments of not caring.

I couldn’t find the energy to care about marketing, or about posting regularly. Until one day, I realized I just didn’t have the heart to write, either. In my 30s, I’ve learned how to be more forgiving of these kind of moments. Not even five years ago, I would have pushed myself into writing anyway, no matter how I felt. I was a lot less kind to myself then. And that’s how I so often tended to crash and burn. Now I listen when I need these kind of self-care moments.

To any of you who have been or are going through difficult situations, my heart goes out to you.

I know just how hard it is to push through your day and be “fine.” I hope you know that it’s okay to not be “fine” and to talk or not talk when you aren’t up for it. We all cope in different ways. People (and licensed therapists lol) will tell us what’s healthy and not-so-healthy, but I think it’s a more personal journey. The most important thing, I think, is to be mindful of ourselves. Pay attention to how you’re feeling instead of pushing it all under a rug. Yeah, there will be days when you need to push it under a rug. So long as you also let yourself feel and just keep breathing. Take it one day at a time, and don’t worry about what other people think, but do let yourself be loved. Let yourself give back love when you can.

What’s helped me besides writing for myself?

Lots of snuggles with my son, lots of at-home ballet and yoga practice, and an unhealthy amount of new skincare products for pampering ;). And as Hobbitish as this makes me feel, one of the things that have helped most is giving gifts to others. Giving back in little ways has helped me so much. Silly as it seems, I felt better each time I could give, whether that’s little presents or just my time and love.

I don’t think I’m fully “there” yet, or at least, not in the place I wish I could be. I’ve struggled to be healthy ever since my loss, but I think I’m on the right track. And I’m learning that that’s okay, too.

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#beinspired

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Goals for this week

1. Get a full 8 hours of sleep every night.

2. Write every day.

3. Make moments to spend with my little guy.

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