Nobody really likes to speak about the truth of a miscarriage, and what comes after.
I miscarried my baby on the 29th of June, 2019. I was supposed to be twelve weeks along, and yet he stopped growing at four weeks.
I felt relief the day I miscarried.
He was unplanned, which is putting it mildly. We had absolutely nothing in our lives together. Financially, we were so far from being where we should’ve been.
I felt terribly guilty about the relief I felt.
I had no idea what was to come, and what is still happening.
I began to drink until I blacked out. Anything to numb what was happening inside of me. I wasn’t an alcoholic by any means, I just no longer cared about controlling the amount I had when I left the house.
I sat at my new job, tears coursing down my face for the entire nine hours.
I fell deep into the one pit I swore I would never encounter again: depression.
I was angry, I was filled to the brim with hatred that would bubble up inside of me to the extent that I would refuse to open my mouth whatsoever for fear that my words would tarnish my world even further.
I would cry late at night, wondering why no one in my life was reaching out to me.
I would spend countless nights awake, wondering why the world kept turning as though nothing had just happened.
I had been deeply traumatized.
In every single way possible.
Eventually, it got better. Through the help of my counsellor, and God.
But it’s not completely okay.
I can feel I’m different, and I can tell that I’m still in the healing process.
I have begun trying to drink less, and it has been improving as time goes on.
I’ve dealt, for the most part, with severe insecurities and unfathomable self-hatred.
But it’s still difficult to laugh.
It’s difficult to smile, and to enjoy who I am. My moods are stable, but they’re flat.
There will be smaller moments when I get a taste of who I was before all of this happened. It’s such a delightful feeling. But it does tend to evaporate into the abyss of nothingness.
I don’t let this bring me down.
I know for a fact that it’s going to get better.
After encountering depression, both mild and severe, I know that there is no way I could ever remain in a fog.
My heart aches for those enduring the same thing. Those who feel like there is no end in sight.
Repeat this to yourself, every single day.