Seasons

#22daysofhope
Day 16. Seasons.

(I have done every day on instagram but not on my blog. For mote content head over to @survivingmiscarrigetogether)

Our seasons are Autumn and summer. When I think about it, everything seems to have changed so quickly in such a short amount of time.
Emmets months are September and October, and he was due 22nd June 2016. Realtas month is July. I don’t know their due date, I’m not sure I’m going to look it up either, but I probbably will eventually. Their loss is just very difficult to navigate. Less clean cut somehow than with Emmet.

With Emmet he was a teeny tiny but visible ‘blob’ (and I say that in the most affectionate way possible. He was a beautiful blob, but still blobby. I wish I’d gotten a better look, I hate that I never did. But I was in the shower and everything was happening too quickly to process, and I was in so much pain that I wasn’t really thinking straight about anything.)

We lost Réalta even earlier so they’re termed a ‘chemical pregnancy’ which is still a miscarriage, just a different type of one. And no two losses are the same. Loosing Réalta was still agony but not in the same way as with Emmet. There wasn’t all that much to pass. It didn’t hurt that much and was bad but not terrible.

I worry perhaps it is because I have almost become ‘accustomed’ to loss, that somehow I devalue them by not giving them the same merit, but although the losses were only a few weeks apart in gestation, the experience is worlds apart.

It also made me kick myself for not having gone to the doctor with Emmet. Not that it would have done anything, but I would have felt like I did. At least having a health professional confirm that pregnancy, even if it was a Chemical one, gave me a little form of validation.

I know I then went into denial for months, but I’m going to tackle that later, and I’m slowly getting the ball rolling for some kind of therapy. I’m realizing that actually I think I need it. That denial may have been a coping mechanism, but it wasn’t a healthy one, and I hate myself for having kept it from my partner. The subterfuge makes me ashamed. They’re his babies too.

Aparently thwre is a self referral service at the university health centre, so that is one of my things to do this week. It was also on my things to do last week but I was a big wuss and put is off.

I seriously need to get better at asking for help and hopefully this is a step in the right direction.

Love and Support always,

Zoë,

Surviving Miscarriage Together x

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