Still an albatross. Squawk.

I am being rotten-bad at NaComLeavMo. I can’t think what to say to pregnant people. I can’t think what to say to people who are not pregnant. I can’t think what to say to bloggers who aren’t at a family-building stage of their life. I can’t think what to say to those who already have the family they want. Most of all, I can’t think what to say to anyone new, because no doubt they’ll follow me back here. I f I say ‘Hello! So happy for you! I’m having a miscarriage!’ it’s, well, it’s a bit of a bloody downer, really, and rather a mean thing to do to anyone who’s not having a good time themselves/ is finally having a good time. If I don’t say anything, they meander innocently over here and I, of course, have primed the door of this blog with a large overhead bucket of ice-cold water. Greetings. Expecting more jollity, were you? Bwahahahah.

H and I went for a long walk yesterday. I hadn’t really been bleeding much at all, and what with the lurking indoors we were both going slightly mouldy, so what the hell. We had meant to eat lunch out, but I found I couldn’t really face that bit. I feel like a broken packing-case. Broken packing-cases do not sit in coffee-shops reading the papers. They are too splintery. Anyway. We ended up walking through the local cemetery. There’s a cemetery near the hospital as well, and on Tuesday H and I walked through that. Because they are peaceful, and rather beautiful, and most importantly deserted. And people are allowed to be sad in them.

My lower back keeps hurting and hurting. And I haven’t felt sick for a few days now. But I still haven’t been able to bring myself to have a cup of coffee or eat any of the brie H brought home. It seems like a betrayal.

Oh, and my breasts still hurt. Idiots.

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26 responses to “Still an albatross. Squawk.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Completely understand and particularly about the coffee and the brie. I felt that the only thing I could do for my dead child was house it respectfully for as long it it remained with me. How that equated to avoiding caffeine and listeria I’m not entirely sure, but there you go.
    And it’s so not mean to the readers who follow you back. If they are unlucky enough to be more miserable than you, they’ll sympathise. Less miserable, they’ll still sympathise, and most likely go to bed feeling a bit more thankful for their blessings.
    You comment if you want to! The lady’s not for… Oh, wrong quote, sorry.
    Your back and boobs deserve a walloping dose of industrial-strength painkiller; no need to suffer more than absolutely necessary here. Could not the tashless spherical GP write a codeine prescription? Makes you a bit prone to bungage, if you get my continental drift, and incidentally that’s about as slow as your poo moves, but it takes the edge off the ouchy. May does not deserve ouchy.

  • Rebecca

    May does NOT deserve ouchy, but she does deserve some funny.

    And I think Hairy Farmer Family is FUNNY!

    Huggies…

  • MsPrufrock

    Well, at least you’re hopefully benefiting (benefitting?) from other aspects of NCLM, such as more comments at this horrible time. It may even connect, or has connected you to other women who have been through this as well.

    I also vote for no ouchy for May. Hells no.

  • Kymberli

    I’m returning your comment to throw in a few sparks of anger/sadness for you. I am sorry. That’s one of the difficult things about NaComLeavMo – you never know what you’ll encounter when you click, so I’m doubly sorry that you clicked on my blog today given what I posted this morning. At any rate, I will be thinking of you. I’m sorry that those around you don’t seem to be more understanding of what you are going through.

  • Rachel

    I have actually been meaning to click back over here and thank you for your comments. I was amazed that given what you’re going through right now, you had the kindness to listen to me vent about silly things, like rude people, on my blog. I really appreciate the comments and I think that everyone who signed up for NCLM is part of the community that faces loss and will either be willing to stay and read or at a point where they know that they cannot comment on your blog. But really, nobody is going to hold it against you for taking a few days off from reading other blogs (unless of course it helps pass the time, in which case, come listen to me vent about my wedding all week and next week too. And I’m sure I’ll have another exciting whine about finding a bathing suit thrown in next week too).

  • Heather

    I think it is universal. I’m not sure what to say to you either. I’ve never been in your shoes. I can only imagine how hard it must be. I’m afraid to say something in case I end up saying something that is hurtful…I hate being an ass but I do it so well.

    Just know that I’m thinking of you. Regardless of where we are on our journey, we love to hear from you May.

  • Robyn

    Of all the things you are presently trying to deal with, NaComLeavMo is the least of them. I’m amazed that your posts are still coherent and funny, when you are in continuing physical and emotional pain. Here’s to industrial strength pain killers for the physical part at least, as previously suggested by HFF.

    And why is it that your post heading reminds me so clearly of that Monty Python sketch with John Cleese as a cinema refreshements lady saying crossly, “I haven’t got choc ices, I’ve only got an albatross.”? Seems to sum up your dilemma quite precisely.

    Hugs from here as well.

  • geohde

    I remember being so plaingoddamn PISSED that I still had positive wee sticks, ages after my last pregnancy ended. It seems like once it’s over, it should be OVER you know? It’s cruel to still be kind-of p-word when you know it can’t be.

    Again, May, I am so sorry this has happened, and don’t fret in the least about comments/not comments and what visitors here think,

    xx

    J

  • Tanya

    I don’t think anyone minds if you don’t reply to comments left on your blog right now or read any for that matter. You have much more important things to deal with. So sorry to hear of your loss. Take care of yourself.

  • Brandygirl

    Thanks for your comment on my blog.

    I hope you’re feeling better today.

    big hugs.

  • babyamore

    hi I am here from NCLM
    I am truly sorry for the loss of your precious baby shattered hopes and dreams.
    yes it’s hard sometimes to know what to say in a given circumstance … words fail me too on the topic of pregnancy loss even though I lost my own sweet baby girl.
    I hope you are feeling better too – not that you have too because grieve and do whatever you like as long as you like – IT’s OK !
    warm regards
    Trish

  • Hecticmom Undone

    I’m so sorry… I don’t know if you get tired of hearing that – probably sometimes.

    It does suck that you are still having horrible symptoms. It also sucks that you have to wait until Wednesday for the surgery.

    It just must be really really hard.

  • Linda

    Oh my heart aches for you! I am having some interesting reactions to NcComLeavMo too…in a different way, but I get it. I’m sorry for your loss.

  • Rita

    Sometimes things just suck. and that’s ok.
    Rita

  • Lost in Space

    I am so sorry for your loss. I would not even think twice about NCLM and commenting. You have so much more happening in your life right now. You will be in my thoughts and prayers. Huge ((Hugs)).

  • Jendeis

    I’m so sorry. Do whatever you feel like you need to in order to take care of yourself and tell anybody else to piss off.

  • paranoid

    I’m so sorry for your loss. And please don’t worry about how your readers will feel. We’ve all had our horrible times and our good times, I can’t imagine someone resenting you because you happen to be going through a horrible time right now.

  • Michell

    I too have felt before that I have no idea what to say to others. It bothers me some that I’m not nearly as eloquent as some who comment. However I know that I like comments, even if they aren’t big ones.
    I’m sorry you are experiencing this loss and that it’s dragging out. I hope you are able to find some peace in the coming days. Hugs to you.

  • Admin

    My mother made wildly inappropriate comments to me during my first miscarriage. I know the feeling. Who has the energy to tell people what not to say when you are in the midst of it all?

    As for the sore b00bs, again – what a mind-f*ck. I remember having to grab my ladies for weeks after my D&C as I ran up the stairs, just waiting and waiting for my HCG to drop. It sucks to feel pg when you know you are not. All the bad, none of the good.

    I am so sorry about your loss. I am still recovering (mentally) from the two I had last year. I am not sure you are ever the same after that.

    Meredith

  • Nicky

    I, too, am here from NaComLeavMo, and I’m shaking my head that you’re stressing about comments rather than focusing on what you need to do to get through your own life right now. Give yourself a break, don’t force yourself to read about stuff that is too painful for now, and just take care of yourself. Good luck!

  • K @ ourboxofrain

    I am so sorry for what you’re going through right now. Everything about it sucks.

    I know what you mean about the broken packing-case feeling. Because we hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy (and therefore about the miscarriage, though it did help avoid insensitive comments, like the ones you got from dear mum — I’m so sorry about those), we forced ourselves to have dinner with friends the day after the D&E. I felt like my insides and outsides belonged to two different people and the outside wasn’t really capable of holding the insides in, and ultimately I had a meltdown outside the restaurant.

    And as for the body/symptoms not getting with the program, that sucks too. I managed to be one who didn’t bleed or cramp or have any changes at all at any point prior to the D&E. Apparently it is possible for a body to refuse to let go. Which makes it that much harder for the heart.

    ((HUGS))

  • Penny

    If you had left that message on mine, I would have certainly followed you over here. It’s ALL a downer. The wit makes it bearable.

    Sorry to hear about your loss. I don’t have any handy advice or anything worthwhile to say either. So I’ll just say “hello!”

  • Penny

    Oops. Wrong blog link. Not that you will be surfing there or anything, but. Thought I’d correct.

  • Shelli

    Delurking to say I’ve been reading your blog, and I am sorry you are going through this. I’ve been there (not knowing what to say to anyone) for a long time now. Take care of yourself.

  • Amy

    There’s never anything to say, but we all keep trying. Sorry is so lame, but it’s all we really have. Sorry, sad, sympathetic, sucky…but it all comes back to sorry. I wish I had better words for you.

    I can relate to the brie and cheese…I wanted to drink, to really drink when I found out I was miscarrying, but I just couldn’t because…I don’t know. But I didn’t. Not that alcohol kills dead babies.

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