Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Recovery: day 20

In the week since I last posted, the moments where I feel ok are getting longer. I know that it takes time and it's normal to have so many ups and downs- but going through it, feeling every minute of it it, is harder than those words sound. Before infertility and loss I never met a roller coaster I didn't love. I want off this one.

Sass touched on something in her post today that I've been thinking about a lot lately. The link between memories and place. How just being somewhere or seeing something can turn you upside down. To have those old memories come smashing back seemingly out of nowhere.

Last week I had my post-op checkup. Sitting quietly in the waiting room of my RE's office I was overwhelmed with memories. I have experienced the highest moments of my life there. And the lowest. The disparity between the two is daunting. It's amazing that one place can hold so much. So much that it's hard to filter through those feelings logically.

Last weekend I found myself at the local pharmacy. I needed a new headband because my dog mistook my old one for something good to eat. The store was crowded so I walked along the parimeter trying to make my way over to where I needed to be. Without realizing it until I was there, the family planning section attacked me. A place I'd spent so much time and money in the past, but also where I bought my last HPT. I was in a good mood until then.

Yesterday my husband and I went swimming in the ocean. Summer is officially over and we had the beach to ourselves. It felt good to have the sun touch my skin again. To let the waves crash over me. To taste the salt on my lips. The water was cold but exhilarating. And then a shocking realization flooded over me; the last time we were there, I was pregnant.

Today I'm going out with an old friend after work. One that I'd lost track of for the last 13 years. Through chance and good luck, we found ourselves living in the same city again- thousands of miles from where we'd parted. When we reunited last month, I attempted to blame the hot weather and long car ride home for my inability to drink the wine she had so neatly set on the table. It didn't work and she quickly guessed the real reason. So later today as we are sitting out in the sun, chatting easily like we always do, the wine that I sip will be bitter.

We are rooted in our sense of place. It's where memories are stored. The events from last week to time that has not even happened yet, paralyze me. I know my wounds are still fresh, but will the emotions ever be less poignant?


  1. I'm right there with you honey. Wishing that my emotions would stop attacking me at such a violent rate. I know about the littlest thing sparking a memory and changing your entire mood. All I can say is that hopefully it will get better. I have to believe that eventually it will otherwise I wouldn't be able to keep breathing.

    I think about you everyday. Are we still on for Sunday? I can't wait to give you a big hug!

  2. I just wanted to let you know that I have kept up with your blog. I don't know what to say, so I have just followed quietly. I know that with each passing day you will get stronger and please know I am thinking of you.

  3. I so understand what you are talking about here. Even four months (oh, wow -- just realizing now that I passed the four-month mark four days ago!) after my loss, there are still places that are hard for me to go and bring back difficult memories from that one very short pregnancy. I think it's gotten easier, but it has never completely gone away and I don't know that it ever will. I guess the only thing we can hope for is that we will one day be able to fill those places with new and happier memories. Hugs to you. Many, many hugs.

  4. You worded this perfectly. I have so so many of these seems like they flood my brain. It does get easier with time, but not a day goes by I don't have one of these moments.

  5. I can't imagine how hard it is to have these memories and moments assailing you all the time. I know it sounds trite (and trust me, I HATE trite, so I completely understand if this makes you feel stabby towards me), but hopefully as you keep moving forward and getting past these "firsts", you will be making different memories there that help soften the harshness of the old ones. Thinking of you always.

  6. memories are a crazy thing. they either are great or they are heartbreaking.

    i love you.

  7. The description of your grief from your m/c sounds awfully similar to the grief I experienced when I lost my mother to breast cancer when I was just 26 (and she was 56). I'm not sure that the grief and sadness ever go away; I think people just get better at coping with the trauma they've experienced. I wanted time to stop when my mom died and I wanted everyone on the planet to recognize her life and feel saddened that she was gone.

    Sending big hugs to you.

  8. It amazes me how a place, a smell, a sound can take you back. I have experienced the smell of a construction site driving down the street and burst into tears thinking about how much I miss my grandpa. I don't think of him every day, but when it hits, it hits hard. I think that memories fade, along with the emotions that surround them; they have to in order for us to survive. Some day you won't be counting the recovery days. The emotions will be brought up on anniversary days or when you catch a glimpse of that one thing that reminds you most of your babies, but it won't be a constant grief. This change doesn't make your loss any less meaningful, it won't make you a bad person, it will just help you get through every day easier. Many hugs.