A letter to my grief…

In 2013 my husband and I decided to try and get pregnant, well he kinda told me he thought we should, and after just losing a lot of weight – I was a little nervous.

BUT, I had worked this hard to be a healthy mom.

My brain was fully aware of how tough it can be to get pregnant, and as I said I was nervous, but very quickly I got caught up in the excitement of having a baby.

So when we found out I was pregnant after 4 weeks of trying, I was shocked, it was as if I wasn’t aware we could get pregnant.

We had no idea how many weeks along I was, and I kept telling myself NOT to get excited. I came home and my husband had bought baby name books, we sat there talking about when we would tell our family. I calculated when i’d leave work.

I booked an appointment at the doctors, and told my manager because I needed the time off for the appointment.

72 hours later, it was over.

All that excitement, the joy, the new chapter of our lives – it closed…or rather the door was slammed in our faces.

I cried. I barely slept and I was angry at the world.

How could my body do this to me when I worked so hard for it?

Why was it punishing me?

Until I miscarried, I had no idea how much I wanted to be a mother.

The ugly side of this is that if/when you get pregnant again – you cannot forget what happened. When you see other women happy, loving their pregnancy and full of excitement, it makes you angry because you are living in fear. Every choice you make is out of fear…you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

During my pregnancy with Greyson I started having some bleeding, I was almost relieved, because I had been waiting for it. When he arrived six weeks early and spent 14-days in NICU I felt like this is just what happens to me – life cannot be good or perfect.

This year I chose to work through the pain and grief, of not just my miscarriage but also my fathers death.

As I sat in my office practicing a forgiveness meditation, I continually felt frustrated…

I couldn’t find the person I needed to forgive.

It wasn’t my fathers fault he had died.

Nobody had hurt me.

Yet I felt like I needed to practice forgiveness, and that’s when it dawned on me.

I needed to forgive myself.

This started a process of forgiving myself for all of my guilt, for trying to be perfect, for avoiding the pain, and not allowing others to help me.

My life hasn’t been horrific, but the pain is my own, and we all struggle with our own demons.

I want you to know that whilst death, loss and grief are part of life…it doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make the process shorter, people will tell you how to “deal with it” and I suggest you avoid any ‘cookie cutter’ or text book advice because you are unique and my friend, we can take as long as we need to.

xo

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