Today I’m tired of being a warrior. And I’m weary. Really damn weary.
I’m fed up of being let down by the NHS. I’m fed up of being let down by my body. I’m sad that it’s not doing what it’s “supposed” to do.
I’m fed up of analysing all my female friend’s, and let’s face it, any female, social media for any hint that they might be pregnant before we get a chance to be again.
I’m fed up of waiting for more tests and results before we can “try again”.
I hate feeling like everyone else’s life is moving on, whilst we’re still stuck in limbo.
Every time we hang out with my nephew, or any of our friend’s children and my husband says “I want babies” kills me, because I’m failing him at that.
It breaks my heart that two of my closest friends are in the same gang as me but they don’t always want to talk to me about it for fear of upsetting me. I hate that it does upset me because my entire life I’ve been told I’m such a “strong person”, so every time I feel I’m not, I’m failing. (Side note, please do always feel like you can talk to me, as TWWGE say “healing lies in sharing and kindness”).
I despise the fact that there’s the tiniest part of me that will always feel sad, despite the overwhelming happiness and love for them, when I look at my sister in law’s absolutely beautiful rainbow babies because I was two weeks ahead of her in my fourth pregnancy, and our baby isn’t here.
I hate that every time someone tells me they’re pregnant and I remind myself that I don’t know their story on how they got to that point, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling desperately sad for us.
This is repeated miscarriage. This isn’t just the ugly feelings. This is the heartbreaking feelings. This is telling myself I’m so grateful for what I do have, but still wanting a little bit more.
But there’s still hope. The fact that is always a tiny bit of light in the absolute darkness of it all is always in the back of my mind. Just some days, it’s harder to remember.
Maybe not tomorrow, but I will feel like a warrior again and I hope you do too x