She is Raging

Trigger Warning: This post makes reference to miscarriage, loss, pregnancy. 

RAO_web

I want to sit back and write something witty. I want to grab you on the first line and take you along some story’s path, so we can come out together at the end, holding hands and feeling quite proud of ourselves. I want to have words to give you, sprinkle around your mind like beautiful confetti.

But I don’t have it today.

I’ve got nothing to give.

I think all in all I’ve been handling this well. I mean, by the definition of “well” that everyone around me uses.

“Oh, she’s good.”

“She’s fine.”

“You look well.”

She’s not good. She’s staring at her Facebook and seeing post after post of baby bumps and nurseries and baby showers and count downs and newborn photos. She’s not good, because she’s angry and she’s jealous. It’s not that she isn’t happy for them. It’s not that she doesn’t wish them the best. She just wishes she had what they do. She wants in on that little world again.

She’s not fine. She’s standing in the checkout and people keep opening their mouths.

“How far along are you now?”

“You’re barely even showing.”

“How’s baby doing?”

When are you do?”

And so she has to say that the baby is gone, again and again and again. The words stick in her throat and she’s choking on them, bending over to let them fall out of her mouth with a delicate thud. She’s not fine and she’s sick with speaking of it.

She looks well. She lost what weight she’d gained and she has more energy. The pregnancy had made her so sick. She looks healthy again. There is color in her cheeks and her hair has regained its bounce. She gets dressed a little more often. She paints her face. She crawls into bed with her husband, aching and needy and everything is back to the way it was and her world has settled into a muted thing, because she is well and so she is waiting. Waiting for her body and his to have that tiny moment of collision that will breathe new life into her womb and it terrifies her.

But she’s raging.

She wakes up and groggy eyed checks her email. Entirely too many messages, but it’s the morning routine. And she sees the words:

You haven’t purchased anything off your baby registry. Sign in now to get everything baby needs! 

So the company attached a coupon to ease the burn behind the idea that she is such a bad mother-to-be, she hasn’t even bought anything off her list. She has no crib, no carseat, no newborn diapers. She has no bouncing chairs, no teething rings, no footed pajamas. She has no formula, no Tylenol, no soft and fleecy blankets.

But she has rage at seeing it.

She has pain that sparks behind her eyes and they’d call them tears, but they burn hot streaks down her face and she thinks she could set the entire world on fire with her emotions overflowing.

She is raging.

And her husband comes home and kisses her on the head. He asks, “What’s wrong?” And she tells him, “Nothing.” 

And she pushes the rage back long enough to kiss him. To make him his breakfast. To prepare herself for getting the children up. It’s a matter of survival now and she can’t be the woman she’s supposed to be with everything snapping apart. She shoves it down, like a pill stuck in her throat. She buries it deep.

Congrats on the new baby! He’s beautiful.

The nursery looks wonderful. You all got a lot of work done.

Good luck at the hospital. You and baby are in my thoughts. 

Look at that bump! Any day now. . .

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Herstory Lesson: “You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.” – Ernest Hemingway

73 thoughts on “She is Raging

    1. -Hugs-

      Now, before I run off to be the responsible parent for the day:

      I love you for your openness, your ability to gather people around you and make them feel as if they not only belong, but as if they were the missing piece and everyone had been waiting for them. I love you for your words and the ease with which you bring smiles to those around you. Keep it up. You rock.

      Now. . .let me go be a half-way decent parent and get my kids to school.

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  1. Beautiful, touching post. I have one daughter who just turned 18 and I so longed for more children … 4 to be exact. I was from a torn-apart family and couldn’t wait to have a family of my own one day. I wanted a lot of noise in the house and at the dinner table. I never anticipated the havoc infertility would leave on my life. I still grieve for the children who were never conceived and the pregnancy I lost. And I remember how life went on for everyone else and I was supposed to be “over it” within a week or two. But I’m still not over it. Fifteen years later, I still feel a hole in my heart, where love resides for children who were never born.I am truly sorry for your loss. I understand your grief. And I hope in time, you find peace.

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    1. Thank you. I’m so sorry for your losses. I’m sure peace will come, but I see that as almost like an ocean. It comes in and fades out when the grief, or the anger, or the sadness seeps back in. I know it will come back. I know I’ll heal. Just not today.

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  2. That was felt. And though never forgotten it became part of us.
    Each tear shed words unspoken. A scar forever there.

    But you rock.
    You keep loving those around you. And two critters who has a great mum.
    So we make mistake. Forget batman is not for him to watch. But is able to throw one kickass madhatter party.
    You rock.
    It is times like this that ask you to grief. and so you rock shedding a tear.
    Letting go a part of you.

    And to show you how inconsiderate people can be or companies.
    We had a tweet shown of an insurance agency who told a widower to find a new man after she tried changing her insurance.

    Now show a little smile as you bringing those critters to school.
    Huggers and cheers. from the ranting crow.

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  3. Painful, gut wrenching, brave. It is like drowning in the echoes of unfilled dreams and looking up to see a kindred spirit. ❤

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    1. Thank you. I love your question there. I think it’s perfectly acceptable to be “not well” or “not okay”. There are days when we just aren’t.

      I’m terribly sorry for your loss.

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  4. Heart Squeeze. This reached out and grabbed me. Sorry for your loss, and for this echo of sadness that continues to bounce around your soul. I love how this was written in 3rd person. *HUGS*

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  5. Your openness and honesty in sharing your pain is unrivaled. I am truly honored that you feel safe sharing this with us. Thank you and my prayers are with you.

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  6. Lovely and tough post. I too wish I could give you a big hug and make the rage go away! It’s funny, on the 4th of March, I wrote a birthday post for the little brother I never met, Dominic. He died at or right before birth, but after writing about 800 words, I realized that I didn’t really know the whole story properly enough to tell it. Mom never really said anything about it beyond mentioning him every year around his birthday. I guess I felt like it wasn’t my story to tell, so I scrapped it. Anyway, my wife had a couple of miscarriages sort of early and I know it hurt her too. I guess we men can never really understand the pain as deeply as the mother, but we share the hurt too. I have a new respect for my own mom, and the miracle of a healthy birth in general as well. While they happen all the time, it really is amazing! I hope things are a bit more cheery for you soon!

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    1. The pastor from the church my children go to called after this happened, and while he offered me words of support, he wanted to speak to my husband. He said, “Everyone will be there for you, but sometimes they forget the father.” It was true. The husband/father suffers just as much. I’m sorry for your losses.

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  7. It’s ok not to be ok. That being said, I have never lost a child. I have one son and I never wanted anymore children as my pregnancy was not a good time for me. He is 16 years old now, and I cannot imagine losiing him or how I would feel if I did. I did however feel a lot of your pain as I read the burning words being expressed from the pen buried deep within your hurt – mother to mother. I am truly sorry for your loss and repeat: it’s ok not to be ok. May God bless you and heal you, and bring you to a place of quiet peace – one day at a time.

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  8. I just want to hug you and cry. This touched me and brought back memories. I never had a miscarriage but I spent so long trying to get pregnant I had given up hope. Then…my sister 10 years younger got pregnant…I was so happy for her yet shed so many tears wishing it had been me. Three months later I was and I found out on Labor Day while watching films of my husband as a baby. I only say all this because nobody really understands the pain unless they go through it…my heart is with yours.

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    1. I love you. -Hugs- Thank you for all your support and for fanning the flames of poetry that I had long since let go away. I’ve been writing again and it has been so helpful. I owe that to you 😀

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  9. Blech! That sucks EPIC balls, my lovely. I’m so sorry you’re having to endure these awful reminders and now-so-insensitive things. Good grief, this is never easy, but all the after-effects just make it so much worse. It dominoes into everything.

    *HUGEHUGS* And I’m okay, by the way. I guess that’s the advantage of such early losses – I barely had time to register that I was even pregnant and cherish that, before they were gone. No time at all to sign up for things.

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    1. I wanted to rampage on that company this morning. I was all geared up with pitchforks and torches when the husband tackled me and did his let’s-calm-down-and-think-logically talk down. Damn men. . .

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          1. Well, in that case we shall be a gang of two.

            And who need to SPEAK?! You just need to write the speeches and get an eloquent fall-guy. That’s the Machiavellian way…

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  10. I can’t even imagine… I’m sorry. Hugs abound for the Royal Seer.
    “She has pain that sparks behind her eyes and they’d call them tears, but they burn hot streaks down her face and she thinks she could set the entire world on fire with her emotions overflowing.” – This line. This one I know. Not for the same reason, but I have felt that rage. I have felt that almost fear that it will consume me and I will set the world on fire…
    Somehow, I always manage to contain it and reshape my rage into silliness – thus, the jester.
    I hope you can find a way to contain your rage too. I hope you and your family are blessed with what you are seeking for.

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  11. So very moving. The Internet is so tactless, isn’t it? I miscarried early and did not have to deal with much public or Internet reminders, but I identify with this in the context of a child with special needs. Constant reminders of what your child “should” be doing at her age. It’s downright cruel though never meant so (in my experience).

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    1. Tactless is a nicer word than I would have chosen today. I’m sure tomorrow I’ll be able to look at this with clearer vision. Today I’m just letting myself feel it.

      And I have a special hate for the ideals of what any child “should be”, or adult for that matter. They/we are perfect as we are. Period. No standards to meet, no ideals to fulfill.

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  12. I am sorry for your loss. This was beautifully written. People need to learn to stop commenting on other’s appearances. I hate it when people say anything about how I look. My mind can twist it into something bad every time.

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  13. I am really very sorry for your loss. I always feel like these simple words are so inadequate but they are all I have to offer you . Please know that they are sincere and come from the bottom of my heart. XX

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                    1. Matticus made me the Royal Seer. I get to make predictions, perform magic, and make royal decrees like I’ve got the undeniable powers to do so. It’s quite the lofty position.

                      For instance, I predict that you just received an email from a slightly crazy, but well meaning young woman who is a rather awesome person. Just my prediction.

                      Like

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