Counting the Minutes of Grief

30,690 minutes.
                  511 hours.
                      21 days. 
                     3 weeks.


That’s how much time has passed since my D&C, which was less than 24 hours after the ultrasound tech cautiously turned to me with a frown on her face, sighed deeply, and said, “I’m sorry, dear, I’m not finding a heartbeat.” I will never forget those words.

It has been 3 weeks. That's unreal to me. It’s all such a blur that it seems like a million days have passed, yet it could have been yesterday as every detail of this experience will be etched in my heart forever. When I *really* think about it, everything comes flooding back… the initial shock, the anger, the confusion, the blame to myself, the overwhelming depression. It was (and still is) a grief greater than I could have ever imagined, and the feelings were intense, encompassing my entire existence. I wasn't able to eat much nor did I sleep well. My body was physically exhausted. My heart and lungs ached and felt heavy... when I expressed concern to my good friend who has lost 2 babies recently, she looked at me with tender eyes and suggested that this was caused by my emotional pain weighing down on me. I know now that she was right.

I was unable to feel anything other than grief and depressive symptoms for almost an entire week (oddly enough going back to work on day 6 helped with this). My brain did not function normally. I couldn't organize my life or think about future events/activities. I couldn't concentrate or think clearly. Life was just... foggy. I could not explain how I was doing when asked so I would simply start with “I don’t know” because I honestly did not know. I was merely surviving each minute only to have to survive the next and the next and the next. I knew scientifically that early pregnancy losses are typically caused by significant chromosomal abnormalities that are no one's fault, just a random mix-up of nature… but I so desperately wished that I could change how things had worked out. Despite having trouble putting into words how I felt at the time, I was (and am) so thankful for those people who reached out even when I had no idea how to answer all of their questions or describe my feelings. It made me feel supported and less alone.

Over the past few weeks, I have had time to reflect. 

There are occasions when something happens without notice that causes me to focus on the miscarriage, and the grief hits me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, I am acutely aware that I would be 14 weeks pregnant, that I would have a growing baby bump, that I would be starting to have more of the usual pregnancy symptoms, that we might have started thinking about names and baby shower themes. I'll be honest in saying that it's been especially tough seeing baby announcements with due-dates around the same time as my angel baby's due-date would have been... now no matter how happy I am for the glowing pregnant momma (and I *am* most definitely happy for them!). I also find myself wondering, would I be feeling the baby move around? Would I be wearing maternity clothes yet? And, having been along for the ride, would baby have enjoyed his/her first wedding over the weekend, or the concert last night with my friends?

Most of the time, however, I’m functional. I’m not lying when I say I'm doing “okay" (yet not great, good, or even fine - if that makes sense). I have been able to enjoy myself more and more. It does seem to take more effort and I get emotionally worn out a lot easier than normal. I consider myself to be an extrovert by nature, though I do benefit from some "me time" in order to recharge. I've been requiring a lot more of it lately in order to recover (for lack of a better word) from social activities. I’m changed after this miscarriage, but I'm still me. I’m adjusting to life after a loss. My family plans have changed, or at least will have a different timeline than originally expected, and sometimes I struggle with accepting this. I'm working on it.