Ebbs and Flows.

October 17, 2012 at 11:55 am | Posted in Heartbreak, Moving On., Pregnancy | 13 Comments

Spotting started up again yesterday afternoon. It’s light, and pink, and not very much at all. But it’s blood. The radiologist was a little rough with the abdominal probe, yes, but at the end of the day, I think my body has known from the start that this wasn’t a pregnancy which was going to last.

I cried a lot last night.

I cried in anger, from the unfairness of it all.

I cried because I had spent a week thinking that this little embryo inside me was getting stronger.

I cried with grief, because those first few moments when I saw the little being inside me, something tugged at my heart. Hi, Baby, I thought.

I cried because I’m so tired of Fail. Of seeing our hope dashed to pieces.

I cried because I can’t fathom starting over again.

I cried for the baby that will never be.

I cried for the inevitable extinguishment of life inside me, for the soul that will never be.

I cried for all the Fail we’ve experienced in the whole of trying to build our family, the grief of years of pain and loss.

And then I took a unisom and slept.

And this morning, I stayed in bed until Lucky got up. And he and I snuggled together in our cold house while he decided if he wanted to get dressed into real clothes, since his underwear and pajama bottoms were a little bit wet from not making it to the bathroom quickly enough.

Since I’m spotting, a swim was out. So I dressed in running clothes instead, and after I dropped Lucky at school, I went out for my first run since the Great Ankle Blowout of September 30, 2012. Slow, because my ankle is still tweaky, and it’s been more than two weeks since I ran last, and holy crap it’s cold out, and I didn’t use my inhaler because I forget that I need it when it’s cold.

But I listened to my music, and shuffled along, and when my power song came on, one of the lyrics gave me goosebumps.

This is not what I had planned
It’s out of my control.

I felt the knot inside me release, just a bit. And for a moment, I glimpsed Peace.

This is all out of my control.

It’s not up to me.

I’m not religious. In fact, I don’t have a lot of faith or spirituality or whatever. I do not think this is part of some grand plan of some deity, who’s scheming to teach me a lesson or something. I don’t want to believe in an asshole G-d.

What I do know is that I have no control over whether or not we’ll ever have another child.

It’s not my fault. Nor my Fail.

It’s not up to me, at all.

What I CAN do is focus my love on my husband and the child we ARE lucky to have. I can focus on being healthy, eating well, rehabbing my ankle, running (and yes, a marathon next year is back on the table), swimming, playing, travel with my family.

What has happened over the course of these past few weeks hasn’t changed anything, fundamentally. I am still Serenity, and I have a really good life.

And right now, I am hanging on to that glimpse of Peace with everything I’ve got.

I will be okay.

I will be okay.

I will be okay.



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  1. You WILL be ok…sending you best wishes

  2. So glad to see this post from you.

  3. Yes, through all the pain, heartache, and disappointment, you are alive and you are who you are. From there, you WILL BE OK.

    No way around but through. And, for that, I am sorry.

  4. Oh honey. I’m so so sorry this is what you’re going through. Much much love ❤

    • Ditto 😦

  5. Hugs.

  6. Oh, f@ck. I’m so sorry and so sad right now. You are right. You have no control over this. In a way, that is freeing. So sorry. Hope that stupid ankle knows it’d better not act up right now.

  7. Oh hun. I’m so sorry. You will be ok. You will get through this. Much love.

  8. Hugs to you. You’re right, it’s not under our control, and so little of life actually is. You are controlling what you can – your love and attention for Charlie and Lucky… they will get you through this. Take it easy on that ankle though!

  9. No matter how this turns out, you will be ok. There will be peace. It doesn’t come all at once, but you find more and more of it as time passes. xoxoxo

  10. I am so sorry for this pain/hope roller coaster. Sending you hugs.

  11. 😦 I’m so sorry.

  12. Yep. You will be OK. This still sucks though. But you will be OK.

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