I've had a bad week, with the last few days being the worst. This past Thursday marked 3 weeks since my D&C that I had to have because of a missed miscarriage. I thought by now, the residual bleeding would be done and I could start looking forward to having a few "normal" cycles. You see, according to my OB, I have to have at least 2 regular cycles, then go in for some blood work to have tests done to see if I have any underlying conditions that could be causing issues, which may or may not be linked to Brianna's death and this last miscarriage. But, since I am still having light bleeding from the D&C, I can't even look forward to having a normal cycle yet. It is just so discouraging.
Then, yesterday, a good friend of mine delivered her son, safe and sound. And while I'm happy for her, the fact that she gets to bring home her healthy child just magnified my grief over Brianna's death. I feel like a horrible person because I can't even bring myself to send her an email or Facebook message to offer any congratulations. I refuse to look at the pictures her husband emailed out of the new baby. I've "hidden" her and her husband (as well as a few other friends) on Facebook so I don't have to see the happy status updates and congratulations to them. I'm terrified that the fact that I can't get past myself and my grief is going to ruin this friendship. And I worry what that will do to my husband, who is also good friends with them. I want him to be able to still stay in contact with them, if that's what he wants, but I worry that he won't because he feels that he has to protect me from being hurt any more than I already am.
I just so wish that it wasn't like this at all. I wish I was a stronger person, able to handle the fact that others get to bring home their babies even though I didn't. I wish I could be more mature in this situation and take the "high" road. But all I'm capable of right now is to stay down here on the "low" road, wallowing in my grief and sadness and jealousy. So, as a result, I stay away from my friends, including all of the rest of this group of friends. I just don't want to hear about the new baby, even if it's something I might just overhear. I don't want to have to sit there and pretend that I'm ok when I'm clearly not. And I don't want to ruin everyone else's good time with my gloomy attitude. So, I just shut myself out of my life on purpose.
My best way of explaining just where I am right now is like this. Shortly after Brianna died, I felt like Tim and I were on the "outside" of our lives, looking in. I felt like we both wished that we could be back on the "inside", where our friends and family were waiting for us. Over time, Tim seemed to manage to get back on the "inside" and then he helped me to get "inside" as well. Then, we found out we were pregnant again and seemed to move closer to the middle of the "inside". Then, I miscarried and was immediately thrust back to the "outside". But this time, Tim didn't come with me. He stayed there, on the "inside", close enough to see me on the "outside", but he wouldn't follow me. I was still looking in, wishing I could join him, but realizing it would take some time. Then my friend had her healthy baby boy. And I'm still on the "outside", but now I'm not even looking in anymore. I don't want to look in and see all the people there, enjoying the new baby, enjoying their "normal" lives. I just want to turn my back to the "inside" so I don't have to see it anymore. I hope that one day soon I will be able to turn around and again start looking in and that will be followed by actually moving closer to being on the "inside" again. But right now, I can't. I just simply can't. And I hope that Tim will be patient with me and just wait there on the "inside" until I can join him again.
So, that's where these days find me. It's a very dark, sad place to be, here on the "outside". But I read on a blog post somewhere that the tunnel always gets darker as you move through it, journeying towards the light on the other side. I just hope that this isn't a really long tunnel.
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