Envy, Gluttony, Sloth
I'm almost halfway through the seven deadly sins! And I just started working on this project 90 minutes ago!
By rights, I should be calling a friend or family member to unload on them. I might be just a little too proud to admit that I need a shoulder to cry on.
Oh! Oh! Pride! That just leaves wrath, greed, and lust.
I might be able to work my way up to wrath. Greed and lust...hmmm. That'll take some thinking.
In all seriousness, though, I'm going to unload on this poor, poor blog. Beware all you who may look here.
The husband and I got pregnant in February.
I miscarried seven weeks later.
It's not a big deal. In fact, I thought I was okay with the whole thing. After about six hours of misery, of the emotional type, both the husband and I were able to look at the situation, shrug our shoulders and say "Well, better luck next time." We're young and had barely been trying to get pregnant. It's not as though we'd been working really hard at the whole thing, nor was a I pregnant for very long. It wasn't a true pregnancy (according to the rule of thumb my doctor mentioned today) in the sense that there was never a fetal heartbeat. No heartbeat=No pregnancy.
So there you are.
I had a call from my (younger) cousin today. She and her husband are pregnant - 8 weeks along, had the first ultrasound with pictures, fetal heartbeat of 171 beats per minute, could see things like the umbilical cord, arm buds, head, etc.
I am happy for her and her husband. I really am. I know that they started trying about the same time that we did, and I know that everyone in the family is ecstatic about the baby. And why not? Babies are wonderful things.
Do you know how often I have to stop and remind myself that motherhood is not a competition?
I'm so bound up with envy for her situation, and I feel awful about it. I was okay with the fact that I miscarried, but dammit, I wanted to be next! There is a big part of me that feels like when (if) the husband and I do manage to procreate that the whole thing will be no big deal for my family. Something like "Oh, you're going to have a baby. So what? Your brother did that (well, his wife did, anyway), and then your cousin did. That's not so special."
Where the hell is this ugly competitiveness coming from? I won't be the first nor the last woman to have a child, and there was never a thought in my mind - as we talked about choosing to become parents - of "I'll become a mother and that I'll really BE someone." That's ridiculous. I can see how ridiculous that is. And yet...
Envy.
And here I sit, sobbing over her good fortune - and feeling like a complete heel.
I've consumed more cookies than are good for me (my stomach says so...gurgle, gurgle): Gluttony.
I've decided that I don't want to workout tonight because I'm just too miserable: Sloth.
I feel incredibly low, but I won't call any of my friends and family because, dammit, I've repeated over and over that not being pregnant isn't a big deal. I'm okay with it. I am okay with it. These things happen, and I am okay. To call any of them up now and whine about it...well, it just isn't going to happen.
Pride.
Simultaneously, the worst and the best thing was the choice I made to not tell my cousin, as she was bubbling over with joy, that I miscarried three weeks ago.
It's the worst because I do want her to be aware...part of me wants to be able to talk about what little pregnancy I had (very little, but there were some symptoms), another part of me wants her to...not to edit herself because of my experience (which isn't any big deal, right?), but just to be aware that I might feel envious, even as I wish her joy.
It's the best, because at least I didn't give into my selfish tendancies and rain on her parade. Now that would have been almost unforgiveable.
God, I wish my husband were home.
I wish that stupid little imp in my head would stop joking about how this is going to make me a better, more patient person. I really don't think that that's possible. It's pretty obvious that I'm a heartless, selfish beast who only thinks of myself...how things affect me.
No, no...that's the depression talking. I'm a decent person who happens to be human, and therefore flawed.
Dammit. I hate the whole world and wish I could throw breakable items against the wall. I think the smash would be most satisfying.
Comments
You're also normal. Whatever rule of thumb your doctor told you, the fact is that you have suffered a loss, and being sad and angry and envious and all those other things is a perfectly normal response to it.
Don't beat yourself up. And go ahead and break something. It will make you feel better. ((((((((hugs))))))))
It's all lost potential, and might have beens.
And on some level it seems as if it shouldn't be that big a deal.
You may even feel like maybe it's a drama queen thing to go on about it, but -- dang it -- you were on the train headed somewhere, and suddenly you aren't.
You have moved around the emotional furniture in your mind and made a space for a new child.
But that particular child is not going to happen after all.
Maybe another different kid, but never that one..
Most of the time you are going to be okay.
The physical stuff gets over with really fast.
Nature is unbearably efficient at times.
But just sometimes emotionally something will just come out and hit you hard, right where you didn't realize you were tender.
It's always going to feel sort of awful.
So far as I can tell, this never really goes all the way away.
When my mother was an old woman she still spoke about the two she lost, despite having five living children.
And my poor middle sister lost about a dozen pregnancies before the first of her three kids survived.
In fact, for her first baby she hadn't even seen a doctor until she was eight months along because she just didn't believe it was going to last.
(Did I mention that, much as I love her, she's a little odd?)
And I still feel the loss from the pregnancy I lost at 14 weeks.
This was years ago, when Sarah was in kindergarten.
It wasn't planned, and I was at least of two minds about the whole process (or more like half a dozen), but it remains a sad place for my mind to go.
And I'm still sometimes a little shaken by kids of a certain age.
Let the depression talk, throw all the breakables you want.
I also just recommend a good long cry yourself half sick, if you feel like it.
I know I was a mess for weeks.
None of this makes you a heartless selfish beast -- you can be happy for her latter.
For right now, mourning is a hard process, so be gentle with yourself.
I love you guys. I love you all. {{{HUGS}}} You are extraordinary people and you make my days brighter.