Day 12. Wound #MWAH2017

Today’s prompt is wound.

Some days it does feel like I’m wounded. Other days now I feel better. Slowly I am recovering and more able to take each day as it comes.

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The wounds still show through, it hurts every time I am reminded of loosing them. Seeing Pregnant women and knowing that won’t be me hurts. Crying babies hurt. Little kids at work who tug on my skirt to get my attention near the toys section hurt my heart. 

It hurts when, even though they have been told repeatedly that I will not be having children, and cannot in all good conscience, some members of my family still make jokes about my either being, or getting pregnant. Why they think that is okay is beyond me but they do. They know I want to adopt. They know most of the reasons why too.

Like last night when my partner dropped me home (moving out in september, wish me luck!) and my Dad asked ‘are you pregnant yet?’ And when I said no asked ‘Why not?’ So I said we’re not trying. I literally get this all the time. 

I was super glad that my partner had stuck around for a bit when he dropped my home because I pretty much colapsed in my room clinging to him after that discourse with my Dad. It was one of those ‘I need to sit on the floor and sob’ moments. 

I know he doesn’t do it to intentionally hurt, I know he thinks it’s funny, in much the same way he teases us about getting married, but it isn’t funny, and it does hurt. My Mother then, if she overhears some comment like this, likes to go off on one about how she doesn’t want to be a Grandma yet, and look at your future etc…

Put that one on top of the many reasons on my ‘why I don’t talk to my parents about my miscarriage’ list.

So that was fun. My Grandmother even came out with the gem of ‘that sort of thing doesn’t happen to a girl like Zoë’ 

Yeah newsflash people. It does! You’re a Gran now, you’re a Great gran and you’re a Step Granddad. Go deal with it.

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Yesterday my partner and I went to the cinema on a (much needed) date night. We saw the new Pirates of the Caribbean film- during the adverts there was one where there was a man filming his wife and tiny crying new born in a crampt appartment, with some ‘capture the moment’ style tagline or something. My partner bust into tears for a little bit, and I was reminded again, how strong he tries to be for me, and how much he hurts too. I wasn’t the only one wounded by Emmets loss. We both were. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he tells me he doesn’t mind that I can’t have kids (for medical/ genetic reasons), and how he is fine with adoption. Having lost a pregnancy, even if we weren’t trying for one, and consiquently, loosing all the dreams we had for our first child, and having no idea when, if ever, others will come along is a wound that will stay with us. 

Talking about the future, about future homes and having a family is always a reminder of that gaping Emmet sized hole in our lives. ‘I can’t wait to raise a family with you’ is always shaddowed by the unspoken ‘that lives’…

Love and support always, 

Surviving Miscarriage Together x 

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