Miscarriage

My mom and I were talking about my blog.  She is sure that I’ve had three miscarrages.  For those of you who never want this to happen or never want to know what it feels like – look away now.

 

It was between 2003 – 2004 when I was still in my first marriage and we were unofficially trying for children.  Each time it was roughly when I was expecting my period so I was unsure as to the cause of the pain.  Although the pain was the worst I’ve ever had, I didn’t bother calling the doctor – perhaps subconsciously I wanted to remain unsure?

 

For some strange reason each time it happened in the middle of the night – I have no idea why.  I woke up with sudden unbearable pain – not like my normal period pain – much much worse.  I’ll give you an example.  My normal period pain leaves me in the foetal position in bed rolling around in agony until the painkillers and anti-inflammatories kick in.  Sometimes I also need a hot-water bottle to help me cope with the pain.  This was different.  I felt paralysed.  I could barely breathe.  I couldn’t even tell you where the pain was in my body.  It was overwhelming.  Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.  Just as I was wondering what that was all about, I felt movement and I ran to the toilet. 

 

That was the first time.  The second time it happened in just the same way except this time the pain was not quite so overwhelming.  The pain was still extremely intense but I knew it was going to be short-lived and, as before, it stopped and I ran to the toilet.

 

The last time it happened I finally had the ability to feel what was actually happening without the pain overwhelming me.  It felt like my womb was wringing itself out.  The realisation that I probably had had a miscarriage (and the likelihood that I’d had two others) shook me.  You always think that, it’s the most natural thing in the world to get pregnant and to do so on your own terms – there are so many statistics about women putting off pregnancy until later in life.  I didn’t think about infertility happening to me. 

 

I never told Ramman that I thought I’d had miscarriages.  The pain in each instance was too great for me to even move and, once it was over, I didn’t see the point in waking him.  I always treated him like he was the more important one of the two of us and I thought it was important not to wake him.  Can you believe that?  I was uncomfortable waking my husband and getting medical treatment because he was more important than me.  Back then my ex-husband used to say that it didn’t matter if it took time to get pregnant and we’d just keep trying.  Unfortunately there were enough problems in the marriage that I suspected maybe it wasn’t meant to be.  I really didn’t fancy having IVF when I wasn’t sure if we should have children!

 

Luckily each time it was so early in the suspected pregnancy that I didn’t know I was pregnant – possibly only a few days or weeks.  In no instance did I consult a doctor – mainly because there’s nothing they can do for you after the pain is over, can they?  So until I discussed the issue with my mother, I wasn’t sure myself if the pain was connected with a miscarriage.  She had had a miscarriage before I arrived so she was, sadly, familiar with my story.

 

Now, years later, I find myself contemplating why and what if.  I can’t help but think that women sometimes torture themselves with the questions of why and what if?  The fact of the matter is that I’m actually really lucky I didn’t have those children.  But then I contemplate what if I’d have met Helios earlier in my life.  If I’d met him earlier would I have been able to carry to term?  As much as I know these questions are counterproductive, I cannot help but think it sometimes.  I’m actually grateful I didn’t have children with Ramman but that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t have wanted children with Helios. 

 

With the commencement of a new relationship (and I’m not getting any younger!) I thought long and hard about babies.  Ultimately I decided against it.  Why?  I think the answer is different for every woman.  I knew that I was only enamoured with the idea.  I didn’t actually want the hassle, work and responsibility of a baby – the romantic in me wanted to hand a newborn over to Helios and saying “Look, here’s one we made earlier!”  But that was it.  I didn’t want the sleepless nights, the patience, the constant colds, exhaustion, day care, school, clothes, snot, etc. 

 

As happy as I am with the decision, I can’t help but torture myself sometimes wondering why and what if I were younger, etc etc.  It doesn’t matter that the decision is made and I know it’s right for me.  What seems to matter most is the self-torture here.  It sounds a little self-destructive, doesn’t it?  Why do I do it?  Well, the usual situation I keep running over and over in my mind is that I meet Helios just before I turn 30 and we immediately decide that we want children.  I think I would have wanted children no later than 30 mainly because since then I’ve been getting more and more tired and bogged down in my symptoms.

 

Luckily Helios is very supportive. He said that he wanted me to be happy.  He even said that he’d be happy to have children with me – but I’d have to want it 100%.  Being honest, I just don’t.  I am too happy with my life at the moment.  If it’s not broken – don’t fix it.

 

Foxy

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