This is October

Before I begin let me start off by saying I adore all of my friends, online and off, who have had children, are expecting children, and are attempting to have children, but this isn’t about that. This is about something much deeper.

This is about it being October.

A month I used to love but now loath.

It’s been one whole year since I said goodbye to a baby I would never meet. Although I didn’t grow a big round belly or feel kicks, I didn’t get to see my child via ultrasound or hear a heartbeat, I still connected to the tiny pea that was growing inside of me and wanted so very much to experience the pregnancy I had waited for.

Now we are struggling.

Month after month, disappointment after disappointment, I congratulate friends and family as they welcome babies, announce pregnancies, see two pink lines, and pick out baby clothes.

This isn’t about my having a healthy, stunning, smart, wonderful child already. I know that. I embrace that. I love her with all of my heart and give her my attention, my love, and could not imagine my life without her.

This is about a piece of me missing.

This is about jealousy.

The green monster that takes over my entire body every time I hear “congratulations,” “it’s a girl,” “we’re expecting.”

It’s the pull on my heart when I see baby bump pictures, complaints of pregnancy woes, and the love a woman has for her unborn child that shines through her words posted for us to read.

This is about my own battle.

With my weight, my PCOS, and my head.

This is about me.

It’s about a loss I have yet to understand.

It’s about loving, grieving, and moving on but not forgetting.

It’s about falling to the floor, crumbling in a heap, and crying over frustrations that I can’t manage.

I know that one day I will be the one writing about my moment to celebrate and asking for congratulations. But for today I sit in stillness and see green. I’m embracing this feeling and understanding that this is part of the process.

This isn’t about rushing, denying how I feel, or hiding my feelings.

It’s not about wishing on a star.

This is about healing.

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4 Responses to This is October
  1. Lyla Jackson
    October 30, 2013 | 9:01 am

    huge hugs for having to fight so hard each day.

  2. Kristen
    October 30, 2013 | 10:20 am

    I totally understand the feeling of wanting to be sooooo happy for friends and family but not being able to get past the feeling of green…it’s hard and people don’t understand because your supposed to be “happy” for them…which you are it’s just deep deep down there. I am here if you need to talk or vent. You will heal. You are strong. I love you my friend. One day it will happen for both of us xo

  3. Carrie Baughcum
    October 31, 2013 | 5:16 am

    I still can sit and close my eyes and pull up the feeling I felt after miscarriage after miscarriage. Anger brewed. It was like a force inside me took over and I was jealous and mad and pissed and didn’t understand and it wasn’t fair and I was more mad. It was so hard to swallow and just go forward and be happy. It hurt. It hurt all the time and I didn’t have an answer. People would say it will happen. But when will it happen. I just knew I wanted a baby. I just knew I wanted to be a momma. It is an incredibly hard thing to go through and your heart just aches. I can not wait either for the day I click to red one of your posts and read that wonderful news. For now just dig deep, hug your husband and kiss the heck out of your daughter. Let yourself heal and hurt and be mad. It’s all we can really do. If I was there I’d hug you and hug you and cry with you and hug you until we couldn’t cry anymore. XOXXOXXO

  4. Kimberly
    October 31, 2013 | 5:19 am

    And you have every right to feel that way. Every. Single. Right. What kills me are the women who complain about being tired and being this and wha wha whaaaa…sometimes I want to kick them in the tonsils.
    ok, I want to kick them a lot.
    I know that you hurt and my heart breaks because of that. I can’t tell you if it will heal because I have not been in your shoes, but I hope that over time you’ll be able to feel that pain less and less.
    I’m a clicker box away
    (clicker box = text…so says my mom who is stuck in 1940)

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