Damn it, I’m not over it

Dear period, thank you for indulging yourself with a crampy, spotty, watery couple of days that feels (and looks) exactly like my miscarriage bleeding did. Like I needed to be reminded of that. Like I needed my face rubbed into exactly how much I’d rather be 19 weeks pregnant. Bitch.

And then I was listening to the news on the radio while doing a little washing up, and a story came on about the horror of deprivation that is the Congo. The journalist and the doctor he was interviewing came across a young woman being taken to the nearest clinic (mud hut, miles and miles and miles away) in a teeny canoe (no roads. It’s river or nothing) . She was having a miscarriage. The journalist’s team got her aboard their motorised boat and took her to the clinic as fast as possible, and the doctor paid for her antibiotics. And if she hadn’t been lucky enough to bump into a news crew, she would have died. And I dropped the plate I was washing into the sink, chipping it, and I sobbed and sobbed, blind with tears.

I am totally not over it.

And now I can’t stop crying. I am too busy for this kind of breakdown. Must dissertate. Arse.

Also, must make donation to Medecins Sans Frontiers.

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11 responses to “Damn it, I’m not over it

  • ljauss

    Wow. Just wow. It’s okay not to be over it, too.

  • Xbox4NappyRash

    Jesus, I’m just sorry.
    Take care of yourself.

  • isn't it pretty to think so

    So sorry. I recommend drugs…and if you get some, can you please send them to me, too? I’m not over mine either…sitting here in tears.

  • Aphra Behn

    *hug* – other than that I am silenced.

    Love, too, though.

    AB

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Oh, May, I’m so sorry. It’s such a raw wound, I know. Losing a baby is horrific. And having a second-string mental calendar is, unhappily, obligatory. As too is a sensation of well-rubbed salt when evocative subjects pop up.

    I like to upset myself some insomniac nights by lying there thinking about the fact that somewhere out there are women who have suffered everything I have AND UNIMAGINABLY WORSE, and have suffered it all in the cold, the rain, without shelter, without friends, without medical care, under fire, without support, without hope, with added abuse. Then I start agitating myself nicely about what a dreadful world this is, devoid of any compassion, how none of us do enough to relieve suffering in others, and how we are all doomed. Grown up thoughts. Birrova mistake in the small hours. Then I hear a story like the one you heard, and I think that maybe I’ve just dismissed the whole human race too quickly.

    Good, well that’s cheered you up, yes? Oh.
    Damn. Sorry about that. Well done for wanting to give to MSF; excellent charity.

    Hang in there. Dissertate madly. Try not to look down in the loo, it’s worked for me before. I do wish you were within hugging range (you would receive my Very Best Effort) or that I could dissertate for you whilst you have a bit of peace and space. Arse indeed.

  • deanna

    Take your time on this, sweetie.
    Thinking of you much *hugs*

  • Robyn

    Arse! And so say all of us. Like HFF I would happily offer to help dissertate. I might even know something about the subject. However, I am pretty certain you want it finished by a particular date which rules my help out as I have a similar relationship to deadlines as did Douglas Adams.

    Sorry that all those feelings are still so very raw and life and your body are conspiring to ambush you with the fact while you have so much of your life to get into order. And dissertated. Hugs from me.

  • MsPrufrock

    Of course you’re not over it. If you were over it already, you would be a freak. Well, that is to say, does one ever get “over” what you went through? Of course the pain is still raw. I’m sorry.

    I had a near breakdown in the midst of trying to finish my MA (as yet incomplete). I was going through treatments, depressed, working madly, and my relationship was suffering. All I wanted was the opportunity to just be. It pissed me off to no end that there was never that time – all of the stressors meant that wouldn’t happen. I hate hate HATE that feeling, so I hope this time passes quickly for you. Just think of the bliss you will feel when the dissertation is out of the way….

  • Geohde

    Also what makes me sad about third world obstetrics is the need for the fistula hospital……obstetric fistulas from obstructed labours. I won’t say any more but it’s awful….

    J

  • chicklet

    I don’t know how you ever get over it.

  • Lesley

    Lurker here… I’m so sorry you’re feeling “not over it”– but I agree with some of the other comments in that I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you just get over. I had a nasty miscarriage myself (aren’t they all, I guess) with lots of long-lasting gore (sorry), and the experience was huge and unforgettable. I hope you’re not feeling like you “should” be over it by now, ’cause that just adds a new level of stress on top of the original trauma, if you know what I mean. It sounds like a cliche, but give yourself permission to be sad for as long as you need. Many smooches to you.

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