After My Miscarriage: What Helps and What Doesn't

Before this experience, I've never really been through anything that's hit me this hard. But this has shaken me--as weeks fly by I realize it's taking longer than I thought possible to feel like 'me' again. Along this continuing journey of mourning and healing, I've found that some things are helping the process and that others hinder it.

A photo posted by Rachel G ☆ Lifestyle Blogger (@randomlyrachels) on Oct 11, 2016 at 6:54pm PDT

What doesn't help:

Realizing and then dwelling on the scientific fact that miscarriage is "so common" and involves various medical reasons.

While the commonness of miscarriage and the scientific/medical reasons behind it might make some feel better--they are probably more medically-minded than I am. It has only made me feel more devastated. The thought of so many people I care about going through this particular pain is not a comforting one. The thought that it could easily happen to me again is not heartwarming, either.

Realistically noting that it's not the worst that could happen, that much, much worse things happen in our world all the time.

Tsunamis, floods, earthquakes, lethal diagnoses, terror attacks, murder...the list of 'worse' things in this world is endless. Trying to put miscarriage in perspective by imagining our world at its worst also is not very comforting. And maybe that shouldn't be a surprise.

Wishing time machines existed.

What surprised me is that one of my strongest desires the past few weeks has been the ultra-impractical desire to be alive at any point in my life other than this current point. I've been so sad that I just wished I could travel back to carefree highschool single girl days, or college student being stalked by a nursing student who drove a Ford Probe days, or early marriage with Angel on night shift and me reading Agatha Christie novels till wee hours of the morning, or that beautiful year in China with my funny and wonderful students. Man, I even said I'd trade living right now for being back in beauty school--and that's saying something about how I feel right now. But time machines don't exist. And refusing to 'live' through this sad time in my life would just mean I don't get to move forward to the other good adventures that I'm sure will come someday.

Targeted Internet Ads

Seriously, man. A popular ad that comes up on youtube videos is an ad in the local language showing a mom getting a positive pregnancy test and it's singing some kind of gleeful song about how a mother will feel so happy...come on, internet, what did I ever do to you?

Silence.

It was my first reaction. I felt frozen--I felt like I couldn't, shouldn't, talk. I didn't talk to the doctor at all (Angel, bless him, handled that). I didn't want to tell my siblings. Talking seemed like it would make it real. And yeah, it kind of did, in a way. But it was real already, so silence wouldn't have been able to make it go away. For me, words have helped. Silence, on my part or on the part of others, didn't help at all.



What does help:

Food

For a week, my little sister showed up every morning with a bag with some new treats in it--chips, crackers, ice cream, chocolate, ramen noodles. Mom made my favorite cucumber salad. A friend brought over roti and curry. Both Angel and I are passionate in our love for food, though in different ways. During the past several weeks I've had days when all I wanted was ice cream, and days when I couldn't eat or drink anything at all--cupboards full of the treats I won't buy for myself added some joy for both Angel and I--and helped feed Angel when I wasn't doing a good job of that.


"Hold Me Jesus" by Rich Mullins

Has become my theme song during this time. Often, different songs really speak to me during different seasons. Here are part of the lyrics. This song was written a couple decades ago and yet it has felt remarkably true at this moment:

Well, sometimes my life
Just don't make sense at all
When the mountains look so big
And my faith just seems so small
So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It's so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart

So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

"Grace and Peace" by Fernando Ortega, "Held" by Natalie Grant, "It is Well With My Soul", and "Be Thou My Vision" tie for second.

Pink Roses

A friend brought over six roses, and during the week they sat on my table, I would stare at them, trying to memorize every petal, every beautiful curve. I finally understand why flowers and funerals go together--like us humans, flowers' lives are extremely short, particularly when you look at the expanse of history. But it's still a very, very good things that they were alive. Death does not negate the goodness that is life. Flowers die--but they bring joy by simply existing.

Hugs

I'm not a physically affectionate person. My family is not the touchy type--with the exception of maybe 1 or 2 of my siblings. The culture we live in isn't one where people touch each other all that much. I never feel a need for hugs--but the past few weeks, oh man, it's meant a lot when people have reached out and actually given me a hug. A complete stranger walked over to me in church, said it looked like I was having a hard time, and gave me a big hug. It's crazy, but gestures like that have meant a lot to this girl who's usually most comfortable not being touched by anyone.

Taking a little (very little) time off.

Our life is full and at the moment seems to be running at a break-neck pace. Normally I'm very energetic and capable, but I'm having a hard time keeping up. When all this was happening, Angel was in an extra busy time, working all of his normal hours and volunteering 4 days a week at a clinic as well, so I barely saw him, and he hardly had time to even complete basic necessary errands. I had responsibilities to stay on top of, too. I couldn't cut out everything, but I did cancel a tuition session or two, asked my family to help a little with housework and to cover some of my volunteer teaching engagements. I basically forgot about the need to cook. It's hard to ask for help to do the jobs that are my responsibility, because it makes me feel like even more of a burden or a drain on resources, but it was the right thing to do, rather than try to keep going and then burst into unexplained tears in the middle of teaching a lesson.

Having a Goal.

Somehow, in the first few days, I decided that my goal was to eventually get to the point where my strongest and biggest feeling about that little life is simple thankfulness and joy that the baby existed, instead of overwhelming sadness that she's gone. In this way, I do have a mental picture of how I want to be able to feel about the situation as time passes--with this goal in mind, I do know that as I heal the scales will eventually start tipping in the other direction, and the joy will outweigh the grief.

All of You

Everyone who sent me an email or a message or a comment. Thank you. Thank you so much. Sorry that I have not been all that awesome about responding consistently--but I have the feeling you already understand. Your words and encouragement and love have helped. People from all different seasons of my life--people who have known me since I was a kid--have popped up to let me know they're there for us. All of you bloggers have shown me again that relationships that take place completely online are real--the care and compassion you have shown us at this time are real. That matters so much and it's helped. You all are quite the opposite of fair-weather friends. I can't believe that going through this heartbreak has helped show me how very loved I am in spite of the bad stuff.

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I can't stay away from writing for long--this is how I respond to life. Thanks for putting up with my messy processing of what's going on right now. I'm not trying to suggest that I have any idea what I'm doing--I'm a bit lost, just trying to find my way back to feeling like myself again. Don't worry, I'll get back to writing my silly stories and quirky reflections--I will get back to being me.