Loss

The fates, the world and God have come together in a powerfull combination to help me cope and understand loss. Albeit the lesson is not wanted in any sense, but it many ways it may be needed.

I give you warning now that this post may be hard to read, and in many ways I am using it as a coping mechanism for myself. I do not blame or hold any ill will to those who skip over this particular rambling of thought.

I guess in some ways I had always known that something was wrong, that perhaps I would not go to term. But at the same time having never experienced a loss such as this it was coutned as something that would not simply happen to me. I will admit that while making the last post I knew full well what was happening, but in my desperation to be possitive I clung to the wonderful things we had happened that day. While at my sisters (Thanks to my wonderful sister for the use of her shower.) I knew it was starting. Blood should not be that red durring pregnancy. It was not confirmed until Nap time on Sunday, with a call to my midwife. I was warned that the cramping, that everything would get worse, and so I prepared myself.
It was that evening That I realized a few things. I needed to write this down. I have read so many beautoful birth stories, but none of the agonizing loss of a pregnancy in the last week of the first trimester.
My body was birthing. But it was not the birth of a beautiful term baby that could be held and watch grow. I could feel every movement of my body, every pulse, every opening. They were not cramps, they were contractions, coming in a pulsing nature as my body did that which it should have been doing months from then. It was a pain, a pain like I have never felt before. But it was not only the physical pain of a labor come to soon, but the severly bitter emotional pain of the loss. And it is that combination that I became extreamly aware of. I realized that for myself that combination was the begining of the healing process. There is a reason (at least for me)that the pain of miscarriage is so hard, that it racks your body and your mind. I cried because my body was ripping itself away from me, but I also screamed. I screamed because of what I was loosing.
I moved my way through the pain as I had prepared myself to do in August, I relaxed myself as the pain came. And I clung, I clung to Dan as all we had expected was stripped from our lives.
My body did not hit a state of relaxation until about 11 p.m. I laid down next to my beautiful daughter with a heating pad clutched to myself. But I did not cry myself to sleep, I gladly took the darkness not as a comfort but as a needed recharge for my body.
I awoke with a strange feeling. Not of Loss, not of loliness. It was definatly not the feeling of accomplishment that I had invisioned myself after the home birth of my second child. I was not sad, I was simply alright. As if the pain of the miscarriage, the pain of the loss had combined itself into some strange form of primal scream therapy. It still hurts to speak of it, but mostly because I know that those who I tell will cry, they will mourn. And I don't know if I want to participate.
I know I still have accapting to do, But I feel alright. At least for now.

Oh, and on a side note. Alice was amazing through it all. She gave me tissues as I cried, and hugs as I mourned. All she speaks of is Disney land now as I am sure she knows what has happened, what is missing. And who knows we might just take her, some family time may be much needed now.