I am OFFICIALLY pissed off.
My period started today, two days late. This in itself isn’t a problem. I can handle two days late, that’s fine. What I’m really pissed off about is the fact that it’s still pathetic. This is not normal. Every bloody month since we lost our baby, I’ve been going through the same cycle. In the days leading up to my period, I hope and hope that it’s going to be better, that this is the month that it will finally be heavy and like it used to be. The irony of wishing for heavy periods when I spent my first 13 years of menstruating cursing my heavy periods is not lost on me, by the way. I become quite positive, and then when it starts, I come crashing back down. Because it’s always pathetic, and weird, and light, and always the bloody same. Apart from immediately after my surgery, when there was an improvement, there has been no discernable improvement at all.
I try and try to convince myself that it’s better, but it never is. And so I end up terminally depressed, with my chances of being able to get pregnant drifting slowly further and further away. And there’s no way I can not think about it, or avoid it, because I’m faced with it every month. I just think of how much we lost, and how unlikely it feels that I’ll ever be in a position to be able to try for a baby, without the certain knowledge that the poor thing would be unable to implant and just… go. I can’t knowingly do that to my offspring. It breaks my heart.
And then it stops, and I convince myself that next month, next month is the month I’ll finally notice an improvement. It’s just so emotionally exhausting, and I’m so fucking fed up of it.
And it’s all so fucking unfair. We managed to get pregnant (twice!), we managed that bit, but the baby died, and I’m left with this, thanks to the bloody surgeons who gave me it. And so I can’t move on, because we’re still dealing with the aftermath, and trying to clear up their mess.
To top it all off, it’s our baby’s due date on 9th September. Is anyone going to remember? Except for me? And possibly my lovely friend who makes magic brownies? Is anyone going to care apart from us? I am surrounded by women who are about to give birth, just like I would have been. Women who are complaining that their babies are taking too long to arrive, women who are excitedly talking about their baby’s nursery, etc, etc. I wish they’d all just go away somewhere and stop rubbing my face in it. I know they don’t mean to, but it does feel like a bit of a conspiracy sometimes.
Oh I know I’m lucky in many ways, I have an amazingly lovely husband, and some really, really good friends. I’m not dying or anything, and I know that I should be grateful for what I do have. But I want this too. Does that really make me an awful person?