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.