Thursday, December 4, 2008

Miscarriage: Part 3, The emotional damage

I promise this one won't be as gory as the last one, but it will have a few details in it. I had foolishly been thinking just a few days before all the bleeding, how my losing the baby never felt "real" because there didn't seem to be any discomfort, pain, or real bleeding. HaHaHaHa!

What I didn't realize after the bleeding had stopped was the emotions that I would be facing. I had already come to understand that I was no longer growing this tiny being inside my body. Before the dispeling incident of "chicken parts" out of my body, it didn't seem like the baby was gone. But during my time in the shower with huge clots passing thru me, to the point of feeling like afterbirth over and over, I understood that there was no more baby.

This was when my depression really set in. I had trouble getting these visions out of my head. The emotional pain of it all was more than I could bear. I completely withdrew. From. Everyone.

Try to imagine a Christmas with 4 young children and you could care less what's going on around you. I couldn't focus on anything. I cried all the time (or at least whenever I was alone...the shower, the car, in bed). I didn't want to be in my house. I didn't want to talk to anyone, see anyone, really even be anyone. Not that I was suicidal, I wasn't. I just didn't want my life. Plain and simple. I wanted to be Alice, working at Mel's diner with friends who totally understood me, and a son who always did the right thing. I didn't want the stress of real life, so I left it behind. I started to live in a fantasy world where everything was the complete opposite of where I was at that moment.

I didn't want to be married, I didn't want to live where I lived, didn't want the car I drove, didn't even want my kids. Man, that's hard to admit. I hadn't stopped loving them, I just didn't want what I had. I couldn't appreciate anything.

I don't remember Christmas last year. Not at all, really. I couldn't tell you what big items the kids got, or even who I saw. Actually I'm pretty sure I didn't see anyone, because I couldn't face people. I knew if they saw me, they'd want to acknowledge the loss of the baby and I just didn't want to talk about it. I couldn't even talk to my girlfriends whom I've known forever. They were no longer the light at the end of my tunnel. I couldn't see thru my tunnel, it had become so dark. After weeks of these feelings I realized that this was not the normal grieving process. I was prepared to give myself "some time", but this definately wasn't right. I knew I needed help and quickly. I just couldn't go on like this.

So I did. I got help. I am on medication and it has made a world of difference. I hope this testament will help someone who is suffering and may not know if they need help. Read this story and open yourself up to the option that you are not just grieving (as my OBGYN thought). I knew myself and listened to my inner self. Go with your gut and know you are not alone. Your suffering does not need to go on indefinately. Don't be embarrased as so many are today.

Next: Why is there such a stigmatism with mental health and medication?

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