THE FIRST PERIOD

If blogging has taught me anything it’s that nothing is off bounds. It’s also helped me realise that I’m more of a private person that I thought I was but yet I’m comfortable enough to want to bear my soul if I feel it’ll help somebody. That ‘somebody’ might be me (actually, I’m pretty sure it will be in this instance) but it might also be you.

31 days ago — the amount of days in your average month and my goodness, I can hardly believe it’s been such a short amount of time since — I sat down in the downstairs toilet and wiped blood away. It was the start of my miscarriage at 6 weeks plus 4 days. A ‘complete’ miscarriage, a natural miscarriage, nothing was left behind. There was no doubt, there was nothing to see, just the gestational sac coming away.

Today, about half an hour ago, I sat down in that very same toilet and wiped away blood. Just as before, it was unexpected. I didn’t realise my period would come back so quickly. The same action, the same sight, it’s the rawest feeling I’ve experienced in relation to our loss since it happened.

Rose

We knew I was pregnant for just over 2 weeks. That’s all. But it was enough time to plan for our future, to get used to the idea, to feel some sort of love and affection. A blissful bubble. It seems so distant now. Like a disjointed memory but yet it was only last month. I feel hurt that my brain is forcing me to move on so quickly. There is that instinctual need to survive, to try and be OK, to function.

I want to know why but I never will. I want to know why it was taken away from us. I feel better and worse for crying right now. Physically relieved for letting my body deal with the emotions but still mentally pained.

Every Tuesday there is the reminder that I’m not pregnant anymore. My baby app pings to tell me how many weeks I am (11 weeks today) or should be and I don’t have the will to delete it yet. Another week or two and we would’ve had our first scan. We could of finally shared our happy news but most people would’ve known by then anyway I expect. I never was any good at keeping secrets!

I know there will be the bigger milestones to deal with as the months go by. I’ll think of you when we could’ve found out your gender, when we would’ve started buying baby things for you, when I’d of started packing my hospital bag and especially on 26th September, my due date for you, when we would’ve welcomed you in to this world.

I’m sad for us. I’m even sadder for the little girl asleep upstairs who would’ve made the most amazing big sister. You would’ve adored her and I know she would have doted on you completely.

I can only cope by believing that age-old mantra ‘everything happens for a reason’  but I can’t for the life of me fathom what that might be yet. Why? Why aren’t you allowed to be here anymore? Why couldn’t I keep you safe and snug? Why did this happen? I’m so sorry.

I hate my body for going back to normal so quickly, is my mind expected to do the same thing? Am I supposed to try and move on ‘properly’ now?

Today, about half an hour ago, I wiped away blood. My body is recovered, it’s ready to go again but my soul is nowhere near being healed.

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