Aug 9, 2011

The power of smiling: a recount of losing my first pregnancy.

I was thinking about when I was going to have the balls to write about this. It's not that this is an excuse for another post. It's not. But since this little place in internet heaven is more than a place for me to write how angry I am at clients or at life in general, it certainly is the right place for me to write this down, because while I know I am ok and the pain has gone a bit, I need to tell someone.

I haven't discussed this, at length, with anybody. I lost a pregnancy that I didn't know I had. My doctor, very matter-of-factly said it to me with a very calm voice. I know that he does it every single day, and I know why he just blurted it out with no sugar coating - because after more than a decade, he knows me and he knows how stress fucks me up. So he wanted me to get to the bottom line without giving me all the show before the main event.

I remember that I winced but I kept talking to him, like I was a rock. A superwoman who had nerves of steel. He smiled, told me that it was natural and that there was hope. Don't quit, let's just keep trying, he said.

Yeah.

So I get in my car, drive home. I open my door and my boyfriend stares at me. He knew that something bad was going on, but I didn't tell him that it could be what it ended up being... I started crying, but I still wanted to be the superwoman so I quit very quickly. I was sort of in shock. What just happened? What was what the doctor said? Maybe you lost a baby? Really? That happened to me? Days went on and I didn't want to go into it. My boyfriend sort of noticed, I guess. While he was very kind, he told me not to be sad and that we should keep trying, it was like I felt nothing.

And since I felt nothing, I decided that I was going to extend that "feeling" until I wanted. No pain. This sort of thing happens, such is life. Period. Let's move on to the next job, to the next pitch, to the next weekend vacation.

The pain hit me like a ton of bricks, one day at a children's theme park. It was a little after noon and there we were, stuck in a parade. We both are two very dark people loaded with sarcasm, but we decided to play along the "merry go round" experience and go happy happy joy joy that weekend, along with thousands of people. While we were jokingly having way too much fun, cartoony in some way, I turned my head laughing and saw this little boy perched up his dad's shoulders. He saw his favorite character and gave the most single amazing little smile you could ever see... and my heart broke into pieces.

Shit, as I write this, you cannot understand how much it hurts still. I wanted that experience. I wanted that smile coming from a little one of my own. My eyes got very teary and I had to pretend to walk away to see something while I breathed a little and made a huge effort not to start sobbing like an idiot in front of people dressed up like animal characters and sunburned tourists. My boyfriend didn't notice - I didn't want him to get upset. Besides. This was not the place to "go there".

So I bagged my pain once again and have never talked about it - until now. Maybe that helped a bit. I now can at least tell some people. So this means I'm doing better...

So! What's the lesson here? I think that sometimes you really - and I mean really - need to toughen up and just fight through the really bad moments. If I had stopped to feel sorry about myself, maybe I would  have gone in a weird depression. It's ok to feel pain and sadness, but you cannot let it control you. You fall down, you dust yourself off, you keep smiling, you keep getting up in the morning and eventually you find yourself content, and sort of still full of hope.

I'm not quitting on that little smile. Not yet. Don't you ever quit unless there is no other solution, ok?

Much love. Me.

2 comments:

Joker said...

Where there's a will there's a way. It's an age old adage and one that applies to your situation. I took a few minutes to try and think of what to write in reply to this post... but nothing good was coming out, so here's me going ad lib. What you went through might happen to people every day, but every single person doesn't care about the rest of the world, since theirs has just crumbled. You are justified in your pain, I'm sure you know that and it's admirable to push through but in addition, I feel the need to share something someone very near and dear to me experienced last year. Whereas you lost a pregnancy, they lost a son. A beautiful baby boy that fought to live for two whole months. Two months of prayers, two months of treatment, two months of support, two months of hopeful days and two months that felt like two years. In the end, the result was that their child passed away, never having gotten out of the hospital. I, along with a varied crew felt anger and frustration. These are two of the nicest people I know. I'm not just saying that by the way... It's a goddamn fact. Two people who always help others, two people with faith to envy, two people who have nothing but the best intentions for most if not all of the people they come into contact with every day... and this happened to them.

We all cried though nothing like what they felt. I saw pictures of the baby, heartfelt thanks in mass emails to all the friends who were rooting and that gut wrenching message that let all of us know that heaven had gotten another little angel.

I know you're not big on faith and you have your reasons. but this wonderful couple who had a beautiful baby boy passed through a horrible experience..... and they made it through. They shared the pain, they supported each other and yet again showed that as people, there's no way in hell I could compete if I were inclined.

What's the moral of this story? That was last year. They consistently right about their baby boy and how much they miss him... but they are pregnant again. Apprehensive? Yeah. Afraid? Of course... but they're together and they didn't give up on that smile.

Bless you and your wonderful man and know that in good times, bad times, mid times and any time, I am here if only to try and make you laugh. Godbless, even if he doesn't exist.

Me said...

Thank you my sweet man. What a sad story, I hope your friends are doing well and have their new baby with good health.

Yes, that exactly was my point for not crying too much about it. I thought that, while sad, it was "good", because it wasn't like I was in my last trimester, and I had no time to even think about how it felt being preggers. This was just a it happened, move along kind of situation coming from my doctor, and I think he made a point that this was just natural and that I didn't need to take it further.

Thank you for being there, my bro of bros. May Joe Pesci bless you. (Well, I believe in the words of George Carlin, so hey, Pesci it is). MUAKS.

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