NOTE: I like to keep organized, so I'm reposting my old blogs in one spot. This one originally ran on March 16, 2009.
People don't know what to say when someone has a miscarriage because there are no real words to say. While I felt fortunate to have supportive people around me after my miscarriage, what people don't talk about is what happens next. It's different than your "average" grieving experience, if there is a "normal" way to grieve.
I took some time off work and thought I had allowed myself to experience the grief and pain of the loss. Truth is, even after being back a few weeks, I still couldn't keep myself together. I'm a complete mess - physically, emotionally and hormonally. And apparently, this is more common than I knew.
I cried all the time, not just at home and not not just a teary kind of cry, but constant crying fits that are usually accompanied with some hyperventilating or throwing up. After two weeks back at work, I was plagued with physical pain, emotional meltdowns and the general feeling that my body was working against me at every opportunity. I went to my doctor.
Medically speaking, I was certain there was nothing that could be done. I didn't want any prescription medications because I'm still nursing my 22-month-old older daughter. The weaning my daughter and I had started when I found out I was pregnant didn't seem to matter to me as much as it did 13 weeks ago.
I told my doctor that I was NOT myself. I couldn't describe it, leaving me more frustrated. Like I did every hour of every day, I cried. I felt out of control, as if there was an erratic, emotional stranger inhabiting my body.
Exhausted, agitated, depressed and anxious, I didn't know how to tame how I was feeling-which varied by the hour. I couldn't balance being a working mother with the wild emotions that left me in a constant state of despondency. (Like anyone really balances working motherhood, anyway.) Bedtime was the same for me as it was for my daughter: 8 p.m. But I'd wake up by midnight and stay up through the next day. There I was, sitting like a robot, awake. And silent.
Once, after my husband and I had a minor disagreement, I actually threw dishes around the kitchen. I've never purposely thrown a dish in my life. Luckily for us, we have already replaced our "nice" dishes with plastic ones until the kids get older.
While I know part of me will never be the same, I felt I should be able to leave the house without getting sick, that I should be able to slowly get back to my normal life. Sometimes I thought I was doing OK, but most of the time I knew I wasn't.
Well, it turns out my doctor had plenty of advice, reassuring me how common this is. It made sense: the combination of first trimester hormones and exhaustion come to a screeching halt, then add postpartum hormones, a broken heart and a boatload of grief. It's just not the natural physical progression of things. Along with the roller coaster of hormones, my doctor noticed signs of postpartum depression along with the natural grieving process. She opted against treating the depression for now, but started me on a heavy diet of vitamins, some diet observances and a mild medication to help me get some sleep.
In under a week, I'm seeing the differences. I'm sleeping soundly, but not so deeply that I snore through crying children or a barking dog. I'm rested,-maybe for the first time in years. The physical pain has subsided and the whirlwind inside of me has started to calm down.
It would be a lot easier if the grieving process had a set time frame. But it doesn't, so I'm thankful I listened to my body, talked with my doctor and took action. I'm also happy that action didn't involve heavily medicating myself.
And, finally, I'm getting a little better every day.
I took some time off work and thought I had allowed myself to experience the grief and pain of the loss. Truth is, even after being back a few weeks, I still couldn't keep myself together. I'm a complete mess - physically, emotionally and hormonally. And apparently, this is more common than I knew.
I cried all the time, not just at home and not not just a teary kind of cry, but constant crying fits that are usually accompanied with some hyperventilating or throwing up. After two weeks back at work, I was plagued with physical pain, emotional meltdowns and the general feeling that my body was working against me at every opportunity. I went to my doctor.
Medically speaking, I was certain there was nothing that could be done. I didn't want any prescription medications because I'm still nursing my 22-month-old older daughter. The weaning my daughter and I had started when I found out I was pregnant didn't seem to matter to me as much as it did 13 weeks ago.
I told my doctor that I was NOT myself. I couldn't describe it, leaving me more frustrated. Like I did every hour of every day, I cried. I felt out of control, as if there was an erratic, emotional stranger inhabiting my body.
Exhausted, agitated, depressed and anxious, I didn't know how to tame how I was feeling-which varied by the hour. I couldn't balance being a working mother with the wild emotions that left me in a constant state of despondency. (Like anyone really balances working motherhood, anyway.) Bedtime was the same for me as it was for my daughter: 8 p.m. But I'd wake up by midnight and stay up through the next day. There I was, sitting like a robot, awake. And silent.
Once, after my husband and I had a minor disagreement, I actually threw dishes around the kitchen. I've never purposely thrown a dish in my life. Luckily for us, we have already replaced our "nice" dishes with plastic ones until the kids get older.
While I know part of me will never be the same, I felt I should be able to leave the house without getting sick, that I should be able to slowly get back to my normal life. Sometimes I thought I was doing OK, but most of the time I knew I wasn't.
Well, it turns out my doctor had plenty of advice, reassuring me how common this is. It made sense: the combination of first trimester hormones and exhaustion come to a screeching halt, then add postpartum hormones, a broken heart and a boatload of grief. It's just not the natural physical progression of things. Along with the roller coaster of hormones, my doctor noticed signs of postpartum depression along with the natural grieving process. She opted against treating the depression for now, but started me on a heavy diet of vitamins, some diet observances and a mild medication to help me get some sleep.
In under a week, I'm seeing the differences. I'm sleeping soundly, but not so deeply that I snore through crying children or a barking dog. I'm rested,-maybe for the first time in years. The physical pain has subsided and the whirlwind inside of me has started to calm down.
It would be a lot easier if the grieving process had a set time frame. But it doesn't, so I'm thankful I listened to my body, talked with my doctor and took action. I'm also happy that action didn't involve heavily medicating myself.
And, finally, I'm getting a little better every day.
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