Tuesday, 13 June 2017

The Post I Didn't Want to Write

Hello, lovelies.

As I'm writing this it's 23:36 on Monday the 12th of June, 2017. Who knows if I'll publish this right away, I might wait until I feel like I've had closure on this subject before I post it, again, who knows.

I've been thinking about writing this for a while. Since it happened, actually, but I haven't been able to find the words, nor the courage. I know there's a whole community out there to help me, but part of my coping mechanism has been to do things alone, and it has been since I was a child, but doing this alone is hurting me more now, this month, than ever.

I can't think of a way to put this into words other than the obvious - I had a miscarriage.

Some backstory, my best friend and I have always had some kind of weird tension, and in September last year we just kind of gravitated towards each other, and we got carried away. It happens, right? Not much more was thought on what happened until mid-October when I didn't get my period, which was very bizarre as I've been fairly regular the whole time I've been getting periods. I put it down to stress, since I was having severe issues with my stress levels at the time, but alas, it came to Halloween week, and nothing. I was due to travel to London for my uncle's wedding, a nine hour trip one way, eighteen hours return, and I felt nauseous, dizzy, my mouth tasted like copper, and my stomach was hard as a rock and bloated. I went to my friend's house for lunch a couple of days before we were meant to leave, and she was cooking something with the smallest amount of garlic in it, but it overwhelmed me to the point I was sick. She jokingly said "Oh, maybe you're pregnant." and I laughed and brushed it off, but oh my God, did my heart flutter.

The day before we were scheduled to leave for London, I went into town with a friend and picked up a pregnancy test. I couldn't take it in the house because I still live with my mum and couldn't risk her finding it, so I packed it in my bag, and I waited. The whole 9 hour drive was torture, feeling nauseous and generally under the weather, worried sick and stressed, and stuck in a tiny car with my cousin, auntie and mum, I just wanted to get to the hotel and sleep. I stood in the bathroom mirror of the hotel and looked at myself sideways in the mirror, one side of my stomach was more bloated than the other, and felt harder down beside my hips, and I felt very sick all of a sudden.

The next day we were up, dressed to the nines, and out the hotel for 11am. I was wearing a very tight dress, and tried to keep my handbag pulled in front of me all day. I consoled in my little cousin, who has always been my very best friend, and she hugged me tight in the bathroom's of the church, before telling me, "Hey, if you are, at least River Island do baby clothes." I laughed.

The wedding was beautiful, and seeing my uncle so happy was wonderful, and having my whole family in one place, but I couldn't enjoy myself. I sat through the toasts and the family banter, ate as much as I could of the meal they served us (shoutout to my cousin Dan for eating from my plate), and as soon as the band started I dove for the bathrooms, pulled the test out of my bag, and took it.

I was shaking like a leaf, terrified and crying in the stalls of a very fancy Vineyard bathroom, when I saw the word "Pregnant" and the time date of 3+ weeks. My heart fell into my stomach, my legs felt like jelly, and I sat on the floor of the stall and sobbed. I was in there for a good 30 minutes, when I heard someone come into the bathrooms. So I cleaned myself up with toilet roll, and went to wash my hands and reapply my makeup. Working it out in my head, if I was 3+ weeks, it was definitely who's I thought it was, and that broke my heart. I knew it would change the dynamic of our relationship, and as selfish as that sounds, I didn't want that.

When we got home, the first thing I did was FaceTime him and say, "Hey, I haven't gotten my period." and, understandably, he freaked a little bit. Saying he didn't want kids, and if I was pregnant would I please consider getting an abortion. I didn't really know how to reply, so I said I didn't think I was. Which, ultimately, was very stupid. I've always been very Pro-Choice, but I never thought I'd be in the situation where I'd have to make that decision.

I made a doctors appointment for two weeks later, because it was flu-season and it was the only time I could get one, and went along anxiously. They did the usual pee test, and this one came back negative. My head was spinning as she explained to me it was either a false positive, or, the pregnancy ended early, and I'd have to wait and see.

Not much happened until the first week of December, when I woke up one morning with cramps worse than I've ever had in my life. I had to crawl to the bathroom, and there it was. A lot, a lot a lot of blood. Much worse than a regular period. Much, much worse. Thick and dark and disgustingly heartbreaking.

I went back to the doctor the next week and told her what happened, and she told me to keep taking my pill, and just take it easy. Take it easy.

Now, as it's reaching the 9 month mark, I'm being struck every day with the realisation that I should be getting ready to have a baby... and I'm not. Instead, I'm sitting up crying, and writing this post. It's a very strange feeling. I haven't felt like myself for a while, and I know this is the reason why. I've been sad, withdrawn, and ultimately, very lonely. None of my friends have been in a similar situation, so I felt like I had no one to talk to.

Writing it down has made me feel numb, like it hasn't happened to me and I'm writing a story of a heartbroken 21 year old girl, but this is me, and this did happen to me, and as much as I'd like to deny it, it's part of my story. I would love to deny this.

I sort of knew that when it was coming to the time I'd be due I'd find it harder, but I never expected this kind of emptiness. Every single baby, engagement, even new puppy I see on my Facebook timeline is enough to make me feel utterly heartbroken and alone.

What gave me the courage to write this post? As silly as it sounds - a song called Hopeless, by Halsey. The lyrics "You know truth hurts but secrets kill." and "I hope hopeless changes over time."

I'm very fortunate that since I have told a few friends and family members about this that they have been supportive and understanding, surrounding me with love, and I couldn't be more grateful. Even writing this they've been messaging me words of support.

I don't know how to end this post, really, so I'll end it here.

I'll see you next time, then.


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