Healing Words

For too many years, I kept both my feelings and fears silent as it pertains to my infertility.  I tried to ignore, stifle, and deny the pain and loneliness I felt.  However, I have since learned that nothing can be hidden forever.  At some point, we all have to deal with our demons in one way or another. 

After exposing and beginning to deal with my own infertility, I realized how much I have punished myself over the years.  The blame, the anger, the loneliness; all directed inward.  No matter how much success I had in other areas of my life, the inadequacy I felt from infertility persisted.  It wasn't until I actually acknowledged my infertility and openly shared my grief that I began to heal (both emotionally and physically).

Feeling compelled to save friends and family from the same fate, I started this blog.  I intended for the blog to help others going through similar situations.  Funny thing is, I found that writing it has actually helped me in more ways than anyone can ever imagine.  I am blessed to be surrounded by friends and acquaintances that have shared their stories with me.  Stories that helped me get through some of the darkest and most frightening moments of this journey. 

In this spirit, one of my friends has agreed to share her story with you.  Below is the heart-wrenching account of a woman who has experienced more grief in the last few years than many do in a lifetime.   She recently went through her third miscarriage, finding that she hadn't completely dealt with the first two.  As I have been spared this horrible experience, I thought it might be helpful to some of you to hear her story of living through miscarriage. 

I do, however, think anyone who has had any trouble conceiving will empathize.  Her description of the pain and despair is hauntingly familiar to me, and I'm sure will be to countless other women.  The writer has asked to remain anonymous, so I will just say thank you for sharing to a beautiful woman and wonderful friend.  May God continue to help you heal.

"Broken hearted is not the term I would use to describe my current state. I’ve often heard that when a bone has been broken, it is more easily repaired and often heals stronger than before the injury. What I am feeling now is beyond broken hearted. What I am feeling now is an inconsolable ache. A pain for which there is no cure, no remedy, no easy fix. My heart is constantly constricting and writhing in this pain. My arms ache and yearn to hold my lost children. Every night I dream of them. Every night they are taken from me again, and again, no matter how hard I try to fight it. No matter how loud my silent dream-screams are, I can’t stop them from being taken. Though I plead and beg, fight and claw, it is no use, they are always taken. Every night I dream of the man I love only to awaken and realize that he is gone too; gone to a place where I cannot retrieve him. He is gone beyond my reach and only drifting further away each day. Lost to demons from his past and frustration in the present. Lost to grief and pain and suffering.

Broken hearted does not begin to describe my condition. I feel as though my world has been turned upside down by forces beyond my control. That my dreams have been mocked and crushed to dust. Try as I might to keep my world the way it was, to maintain the relationship and love, it was no match for the whirlwind of calamity that destroyed it. Hope as I might that redemption and a second chance could be had, that too was taken; snatched from my grasp and my aching arms; torn from my battered and bruised heart. My face is always wet with tears and my sobs come from a deep chasm within my soul. The sadness weights my body and I feel as though I carry thousands of pounds on my shoulders. It envelopes me and doesn’t want me to escape. It chokes my throat and occupies each thought. It makes food tasteless and sleep restless.

I am angry with my body for turning on me; for losing my babies. I feel as though my body goes against everything I have ever wanted and painfully forces those dreams out of me against my will. I feel empty, so very empty and I wonder how my heart can go on beating. How can it not just give up? Why won’t it? It might be easier if it would. Just to be still. Just to stop. If it would only stop, it could be spared so much hurt and pain and suffering. If it would only stop…

I am angry with the universe. I have always tried to do the right thing. To treat everyone the way I would want to be treated. To be kind, considerate, compassionate and caring. To give of myself, my time, and my belongings to those in need. To love unconditionally and commit myself wholly. To take the good with the bad and try to still find joy in life. I have endured much more than many realize. I have hidden scars that very few have seen. I have hurts and pains from my past inflicted on me by cruel people and cruel circumstances, but I have tried to learn from those experiences and make my life better. It doesn’t seem fair that a person who had endured so much already should be subjected to such agonizing pain and additional loss. It doesn’t seem fair that one with so much love to give should have it thrown back in their face. It may sound childish, but sometimes it really isn’t fair…

And yet, smoldering beneath all of these feelings and pain is a hint of hope. Hope that I can find the strength to survive this catastrophe named miscarriage. Hope that I can find the support I need to make it out of bed and through one more day. Hope that the children I lost will someday be given back to me. Hope that the man I love will find peace and make his way out of his torment. Hope that I will one day soon be able to smile. Hope that my body, heart and soul will heal and become stronger than before. I hope that my friends will continue to fan this flame of hope until it consumes me and burns away the burden I now carry.

To anyone who has suffered a miscarriage, or several like myself, I truly feel for you. This pain is not anything I would ever wish for another human being. It is difficult to understand why. It is difficult to move forward. It is difficult to live through, but after speaking with some close friends who have endured situations similar to mine, I know it can be done. It is possible. Happiness can be found. I now find myself leaning on these ladies to pull me through. I find myself child-like in my trust of what they say. I take comfort in relating to their experiences. Through this I am learning a lesson in humility; that sometimes I must accept help from others. Sometimes I must admit I can’t do it alone and reach out for help. I’m finding I am so thankful to have good friends there to take my hand when I reach out; and to those friends who beat down my door and blow up my phone when I don’t: God bless you."