Those Scars Run Deep
There are some conversations you can only have with certain people. It's the people who you know have been there, so they get it. They won't judge and they don't think you're crazy because they get it. All too well.
But then sometimes you have those conversations and then get an email and run into a random blog post and see a twitter update that makes you realize that sometimes people don't have those "certain people." They think they're alone, even though they certainly aren't.
And then you see people who don't get it saying things like "it's attention seeking" or "crazier than a loon" or "creating drama" or whatever and ... enough. ENOUGH.
Miscarriages break people.
Infertility breaks people.
And those scars run deep.
If you received that email from Shutterfly last week with the "Congrats on your new addition" message and wanted to throw your computer out the window but were too busy recovering from the gut punch, you weren't alone. It doesn't matter that your brain knew it was an error and that thousands of people got the same email -- it was still all sorts of suck for a brief moment.
And, hey, if you happened to be 38 weeks pregnant when you opened that email and still felt the brief gut punch? I get you.
Those scars run deep. They don't magically disappear when the situation changes, even when you feel like the luckiest person in the world because the situation changed.
If you refuse to wash tiny little clothes and sheets and such because you don't want to jinx things, I get you. So do a lot of other people. I have a whole folder of emails from people who have admitted as much. They told me about it privately because apparently it's not OK for us to admit that we're broken out loud.
We are so grateful, but so leery. Those scars run deep.
If you can't handle reading blog post after blog post or tweet after tweet about every tiny pregnancy symptom because it puts your brain in a bad place, I get you. Heck, I can't even write those blog posts or tweets because my own words can put me in that bad place.
Am I broken? Yes. Am I alone? Nope. I know there are many other people who feel the same way.
Those scars run deep.
If you refuse to think past tomorrow because you don't want to think too much about how joy might just explode into your life in the next few days/weeks/months, I get you. Sometimes the best thing you can do is live for the now. It's safer there because those scars run deep.
Finally, if life hasn't handed you a reason to understand how having the situation change doesn't quite heal those wounds, I really hope that at some point you learn firsthand. Everyone who bears those scars should get a chance to look in the mirror and declare yourself crazy.
Just know that you won't ever be alone in your crazy.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Reader Comments (9)
In case anyone wonders, this isn't just women you're describing.
Not sure I get me, though.
I hate that so many get what you are saying. I felt very misunderstood when I was pregnant with Tessa. I didn't allow myself to dare be happy until almost the end of my pregnancy. Even then it was with caution. I breathed such a sigh of relief when she arrived healthy but honestly spent the first 6 months waiting for something awful to happen because I wasn't supposed to get that happy ending to a positive pregnancy test.
Five years and two miscarriages. I finally got pregnant. I spent the second half of that pregnancy in and out of the hospital because my body wasn't loving this growing a human being thing. As happy as I was to be pregnant, I couldn't get myself to really believe that it was real. I would walk around holding my belly because I was afraid it would go away. I gave birth to a healthy, not so tiny baby boy. It wasn't until my husband held him that I allowed the tension to leave. Here was a very real, very beautiful blessing that my body finally let me have. That was ten years ago. I still feel that fear sometimes.
SO understand and have been holding my breath with you. My tiny baby boy arrived ten years old as my step son and is now 6'4" and all grown up. The scars run deep and don't heal easily or all the way, but they do heal with a lot of love.
I get you. After a miscarriage and a scary ectopic, I was on edge the entire way through my pregnancy with our daughter. I did not let myself tell anyone outside of the family for a long time. I didn't buy anything for an even longer time. Amazing how all of those feeling will come invade your thoughts so quickly.
Is it weird that I feel this way about life in general, and can't think about things like my kids driving on theirboennor their first bike ride alone, etc.? It's all too scary for me.
Oh, how this post made me cry. After a miscarriage and an HG pregnancy, I can closely relate. Both left me broken in more ways than one. It hurts even more when there's a lack of compassion for whatever circumstances you've landed in- as if your feelings are invalid if they haven't been experienced by the other person. You're supposed to be happy! How dare you feel anything else! I held my breath too. How on Earth could my baby survive and be healthy after what my body went through? I still don't know how I got so lucky. Infertility, miscarriage, and conditions that are too high-risk to allow a/another pregnancy are absolutely gut-wrenching. I recently found an HG Survivors group and it definitely helps to know that I'm not alone in my brokenness. Thank you for writing this. I'm sorry that this has been part of your journey.
How I get it. Deep scars that throb when they're poked.
Well said my friend. Well said. It's a special kind of hell that those of us who are touch by fertility issues share. I have held my breath your entire pregnancy praying to God and all who will listen (I'm Catholic and I have all those Saints who listen too!) that this ends with a healthy tiny human. I get it.