I usually journal while we are trying for a baby as I love the records I have from Boo’s pregnancy and it helps me to stay calm. This month I felt paralysed in my writing – I was just too scared. I had barely written anything compared to last month. I wrote this day because I was stressed. And that terrified me. Reading this now makes me wonder if this stress caused the miscarriage. It led to 2 days of really bad anxiety. But it’s silly to even starting to think that way. I’m also sure that we need some time out – it hasn’t become too hard to bear.
I probably need my blog more than ever right now but I feel afraid of being real. I don’t want to be open and honest. I want my thoughts to shut up.
I hate these symptoms:
I hate them because they don’t mean anything anymore. All they mean is that there may be a fertilised egg floating around inside me desperately trying to implant. It doesn’t mean that at the end of next week I will be pregnant. I doesn’t mean the digital test will read PREGNANT.
It’s impossible not to be hopeful but also impossible not to be cynical. I honestly have the tiniest slither of hope this one will make it to 5 weeks.
Today I got a really upsetting message. A while ago I submitted writing to be part of a charity calendar. I was told it was perfect and would be used. Tonight I was told they never received it. I sobbed. It felt like a lie and I was humiliated.
Then I felt ashamed that I cried more over my embarrassment and shame than I did over the last miscarriage.
Then i I panicked that the upset would cause this egg to fail.
Then I was angry. At myself for being a push over and not calling out the lie. And at the person for not being honest.
I’m just a mess. We both are (M and I). This is honestly the hardest it has been. It is torture. Constantly fighting hope. Second guessing everything. Feeling so sick and tired but doing my best to ignore it while I repeat over and over I AM NOT PREGNANT.
If this month fails, I’m taking time out. This is too hard.
Now I’m going to try and sleep without having crazy dreams and avoiding leaning on my blue veined painful boobs.
I actually managed to get over this fairly quickly. Instead of running – I spoke up. Getting answers really helps. I also said how it made me feel. Sometimes I really worry about doing that becuase I know everyine has their own burdens – I don’t want to contribute to that. But sometimes it’s important to say how you feel even if it’s hard for the other person to hear. Despite recovering from this anxiety, the month was still not a happy one. Although we did have a glimpse of joy on 9DPO.