I'm reading the Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin right now. You'd think it has something to do with my recent miscarriage, but you'd be wrong. I'm in a book club at work, and we're discussing this book in reference to how our organization might implement a happiness project on a corporate level. I haven't found it particularly helpful to my personal life yet, but I think that's because it is meant for people who are happy but looking to be happier, or people with general melancholia seeking to be happy. Not for people going through circumstantial depression.
I did read something last night that resonated. The author visited a friend after a terrible car crash, and asked her, "Do you feel lucky to be alive?"
The friend simply answered, "Well actually I feel like I really wish I hadn't been in a damn car crash."
That's how I'm feeling about this loss. Do I feel lucky that I have one healthy child already? Do I feel lucky I didn't get further in the pregnancy before miscarrying? Do I feel lucky that I was able to get pregnant relatively easily this time? Do I feel lucky that there were no other complications? Do I feel luck I don't have to experience the hundreds of other more devastating things that could have happened?
Yes, of course.
But mostly I feel like I really wish I didn't have this miscarriage at all.
Almost everyone I discuss this with mentions something I should be thankful for, and their intentions are beautifully pure and full of love. But reminding me of those doesn't make me feel better, they only make me feel like my feelings of anger and sorrow are not legitimate in the face of everything I have to be thankful for.
Because I already know those things. Every day I mentally list what I'm grateful for. It's a good practice and helps take the focus off the sadness, but it doesn't erase it. I'm a very logical, rational person and that normally serves me well in matters of the heart. But in this case, I can rationalize all day long, yet there is a part of my brain, or I guess my heart, that won't be ignored. A sadness that will not be erased by logic. It doesn't matter that I might get my period tomorrow and get a positive pregnancy test in a month. It doesn't matter that I have so many wonderful things surrounding me. I'm sad and I can't help it.
I've gone out of my way lately to avoid all things baby and pregnancy. Social media makes it nearly impossible, but I make a valiant effort. I'll be so glad when baby bumps and newborn photos no longer make my heart hurt. I can't wait until I can be happy for my friends' good fortune without also accentuating my loss.
I would have been 15 weeks tomorrow.