Monday 6th October to Friday 10th October 2014: That Was The Week That Wasn't

MONDAY: I thought Sunday was the worst day of my life. Turns out that Monday decided to kick Sundays arse: it was the day I flushed my own baby down the loo. Well, I don't know if I did, but the image will stay with me forever. I will always think I did - whether I did or I didn't doesn't matter I suppose. The pain and bleeding were worse - it clearly wasn't over. Calling the Clinic they wanted me to go back in immediately, or to call an ambulance and go in: why, to be left in a room on my own for 10 hours??? TUESDAY: Was slightly better - I even brushed my teeth and had a shower. Check me out, I am positively civilised. Oh, and I didn't cry! Luckily Mr P is still off work and we have managed to keep all visitors away. We watched films and ate sweets and had ice lollies. It was the best day we have had in 3 weeks. Then I got upset. I saw a tweet made by someone who was pleased that they "survived" IVF and infertility. They also were thankful that God granted their "miracle" and that proves that people who "deserve" it get their miracle in the end. The person was immediately blocked and I went on a Twitter rage! I probably didn't explain myself well, but I will say this: no one deserves this shit, no one is more worthy than anyone else, and no one survives anything - they are just fucking lucky. Our Niece fought cancer twice and passed away the month before her 4th birthday - from that day I have always realised what a crap word "Survivor" is. I don't want to be a survivor, I want to be a warrior! When it comes to God I'm a massive fan, and despite my odd bit of rage I still believe he stuck us all here and leaves us to get on with it until our time comes. I don't want to get into a religious argument, but when their are thousands of innocent people dying and suffering every single minute of the day, people should start realising that God doesn't grant miracles, he gives people strength to continue to fight the good fight. WEDNESDAY: My first visitor! It was my Mum though so that's ok, and it was only an hour. Plus it meant Mr P could go outside and get some air away from the house of misery. She only came for her lunch break, but that was enough to break my spell of solitude. Im feeling better already and even looking at holidays and feeling excited about it. THURSDAY: My second visitor, the mother in law - luckily it was quick and she saved the tears for when she was leaving. I feel guilty though. She said "I don't think you should keep putting yourself through this" and i snapped back "yeah, well it's easy to say that but it's better than the alternative." It annoys me, and I know it shouldn't, but she has two children, a grandchild and another on the way. My parents have me - that's it. FRIDAY: Mr P went back to work today. As soon as his car started and he left I burst into tears. I went for a shower and burst into tears. I think I have finally realised that all I have done this week is distract myself. I have watched enough rubbish films to last a life time: seriously, films about Thanksgiving and a pumpkin growing contest, and I don't even know what Thanksgiving is or what pumpkin tastes of. I have looked at holidays and read reviews. I spent 3 hours looking at the plot lines of films banned in the UK and the rest of the world: Did you know that Schindler's List was banned in Indonesia because it was "sympathetic to the Jewish cause." I have spent hours playing games on my Nintendo DS. I haven't thought about Bubba - until this aft noon when I had a shower and spent about an hour sobbing. My friend asked if I wanted to go out for lunch. I said no, that I didn't feel up to it. She asked if she could come and see me. I said no, I don't want to see anyone. I haven't heard from her since. I never say No. The thought of talking to someone, having to say what happened, affects my plan of coping: ignorance really is bliss. One day I am going to have to stop ignoring reality and realise that this has happened to me and that I'm not ill, I'm grieving. I just prefer to be ill right now.

Pinch, punch, it's the 1st day of a shit month

Last night I received a text: "Hey! Have you had your 8wk scan yet???x" This coming from one of my (several) pregnant friends. I decided to ignore it, but I can only ignore it for so long. Even my husband doesn't understand our baby is gone so how can I tell a friend before I "tell" him? I'm probably going to have to say something like "Next week. Anyway, how are you?" It's just sods law that this particular friend has probably only text me 3 times in 5 years to ask how I am, I just wish that this week wasn't one of those rare occasions. Today my BFF called. I was supposed to be meeting her for coffee and was planning on telling her what is happening, but because her daughter (my goddaughter) has a sickness bug we had to cancel. She called to see how I was, and my goddaughter wanted to say hello as I haven't seen them for a few weeks. My BFF then went on a long ramble "How are you? How's baby? Oooh, I'm so excited and trying not to be but I can't help it! But as long as everything's ok I can't wait! Gutted about today though, but you will have it soon, bloody kids ruin your life you know!" What was I supposed to say. My 9 years old goddaughter was on the phone too. I just laughed (that's the biggest joke of the day) and kept trying to change the subject. It was hard. I ended the call as soon as I could. And then I cried. I haven't cried much for the last few days, I think I'm getting used to the feeling of despair, but today I just let myself sink. Telling people we were pregnant was lovely, and scary, but exciting. I know so many people like to keep it a secret until their 12 week scan, but in the event of bad news I didn't want the first time we told people we were pregnant to be when we were telling them we weren't pregnant anymore. This happened to my friend and I swore I wouldn't let it happen to me. Plus, by the time you get to cycle three your friends and loved ones start to get a basic understanding of the process, its not easy to hide treatment when its been going on for a year, and you run out of excuses. There is nothing worse than people saying "You aren't drinking? OMG, you are pregnant! I thought you had a bump!" when the reality is just that you are in the second month of down reg injections. Besides, I always thought if the worst was to happen I would need my friends - it turns out I was wrong. I don't want them, I don't want anyone. I just want a baby, not just any baby, my little black hole baby. I have a moment everyday where I think "maybe things will be ok" but then that's stupid. I'm stupid. I feel stupid for being hopeful. I feel stupid for telling people we were pregnant. I feel stupid telling people I'm not pregnant. I feel stupid for even believing I could ever be pregnant. Now not only do we have to go through this crappy miscarriage, but I have to go through it over and over and over again when I tell people. I have to go through knowing they are thinking "well, she did tell everyone too early." I have to go through people sending me flowers and pot plants. I have to go through people saying things like "well, it worked once...you can do it again...loads of people have miscarriages and go on to have children...maybe you should give up now...at least you got pregnant." I don't want sympathy, I don't want comments, judegments, or pot plants. I just want to be left alone to grieve in solitude. I just want to be allowed to grieve my beautiful little black hole. However small, and however filled with nothing my little black hole is, it's still MY little black hole.