​Something We Don’t Talk Much About

The other day, someone shared with me a video from Jens blog, 3WWWBLOG Love, Freedom, Faith. The video is called Reclaiming My Body And Finding True Love  by Carrie Otis. Please check out his blog!

Something stood out to me as I watched her share her story. It made me think about what healing may really look like. I couldn’t help but wonder if we have unrealistic ideas about what healing means. And maybe it is different for each one of us. Maybe a lot of things determine what it will look like: what happened to us, what type of support we got, how many things happened and on and on.

She was telling this story at a time in her life when she had found love and healing. And yet, you could feel the pain and anguish that still was palpable inside of her, enough to make you cry with her and for her. Maybe healing isn’t about being without the pain, but being able to live life to its fullest with it. Maybe the pain and sorrow will always linger, but with healing, it will no longer control us.

This video was very emotional for me to watch. It brought up things in me that I have never heard anyone talk about and I have never talked about myself. For one thing, I didn’t really think anyone would believe me or understand. 

She shares her painful story of abuse, and at one point, shares the effects it had on her physical body to the point of no longer having her period for five years. And she was told that she could not have a child. But once she found true love and connection, within months after being married, it came back and she got pregnant and had a little girl.

When I met my husband, I had been through multiple losses and tragedies. The last one just a few months prior. When I look back, I was in no way ready to trust or give myself to anyone.

Fortunately, as I have expressed numerous times, my husband was ready to love me. I didn’t say he was ready to handle all that was to come from me, but he was ready to love me and stay. We suffered together greatly because of all that was done to me before I met him.

We desperately wanted to have a child of our own when we got married. And I thought I was ready to go through this with him by my side. 

Two months after we got married, I got pregnant. We were so excited. We bought a crib, and I still have memories of the day he put it together. We bought story books and my husband would read to our “child” laying his head near my stomach so the baby could hear his voice. He actually taught himself how to crochet and made baby booties and blankets. We still have the booties and blankets today. This anticipation breathed life into us. 

We were ready to experience this new life together. Being our second marriage, it had a feeling of bringing both of our pasts together into our future. 

But at the end of my first trimester, I lost the baby. It wasn’t a simple miscarriage. They couldn’t detect a heartbeat and we knew I was losing the baby. They sent me home to wait for the inevitable. 

And it was not simple by any means. When I was losing this baby, I was horrified that they actually let me go through this alone at home. Because my husband had already lost so much work up to this point, and I am not one to complain or even let someone know how much pain I am in, I didn’t let him know what was really happening. He was at work at the time. 

It was in the middle of the night and I was all alone. On some level it was a perfect depiction of how I felt. It wasn’t just a simple miscarriage. I went through lots and lots of pain and endless bleeding. It felt as though I was in labor without a midwife, a hospital, nurse, or doctor. 

And to tell you the truth, in those moments I remember thinking that I didn’t even care if I had bled to death. I had already lost two babies at full-term at this point. Nothing prepared me to lose again. 

I say this for two reasons, one it felt like cruel and unusual punishment. And also, because while losing a child after carrying it for nine months is unbearable, I think people underestimate the power of loss a woman feels from losing a baby at any stage of her pregnancy. This loss was just as hard, and on many levels harder. 

A lot of this ongoing heartache was because of what happened to my physical body and its reaction to the endless loss and stress which determined and finalized the fact that we would never have a baby of our own. This video also made me feel sad because not even love could allow this to happen for me.

I was always regular with my period throughout my whole life. And it was always easy to get pregnant. These were never an issue. 

But I had already been through too much before this loss. And I struggled immensely with being loved. All of the stress had taken its toll on my physical body and I could feel it. 

While I desperately wanted this child, I also had a tremendous fear of losing another baby. And after this miscarriage, my body shut down. There may or may not be endless medical explanations, but the truth is my body was in shock and my periods stopped. And this went on for an endless period of time. 

It returned at times and went away again and returned and went away and returned. It was an ongoing nightmare for both of us. The pain of losing this child, coupled with facing the possibility that we would not be able to have another baby, was just a torturous and cruel fading hope.

Even through this and beyond, my husband loved me. Not for what I could give him, he loved me. And together we are a family. It has taken years to feel this.

This is something I have never talked about before today. I think too often we discount the physical effects of abuse and what all of the anxiety and stress does to our physical bodies.


16 thoughts on “​Something We Don’t Talk Much About

  1. “Thank you” for posting this.. sorry that really doesn’t come close.

    I am so very sorry for what happened to you; and yes. The crime takes place in the body and its effects reverberate throughout our selves, throughout our lives. Sometimes the vibrations may be utterly unbearable and still others they fade but remain within our core. These reverberations make us who we are and perhaps, if we lost them altogether, we would no longer be “our selves” xxx


  2. Thank you for sharing your miscarriage story. Mine was also detected on an ultrasound and at first I was going to go home and wait for it but decided to take the 4 pills that would medically trigger it at home, and those first 12 hours were the worst of my life. It’s been a week since going to the doctor’s office to find this out and 5 days since taking those pills and I’m still not the same, still bleeding everyday, and as I told my husband, desperately trying to regain my real self that feels like it’s been lost. He shared that he feels that this was a sign telling him he didn’t deserve to be a father because of things he done in his past, which broke my heart as I understand that very well within my own self. Are miscarriage was our first pregnancy after 4 rounds of donor egg IVF because I don’t make eggs from my own body, and we still have a few frozen embryos left so we’re going to go out again even though we know we’re physically not ready… and if those then don’t work we know we’re at the end of our journey. I miss that woman I was just a couple of years ago before all this, and well I know it’s unrealistic to find her again, I just hope I can evolve out of this dark place.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Your pain is palpable! I don’t know if it is possible for a lot of people to understand the deep dark lonely walk of such a loss! I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your painful story! My heart goes out to you and your husband. I truly hope you are able to have a baby! And yes, I do understand how it changes you and how you view the world. I hope you have the support you need.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh my gosh this breaks my heart for you and your husband. I am so so sorry for the loss that you experienced! My heart goes out to you. I cannot even imagine how hard it was to share this story. It is in the depths of our heart and soul, these stories, and sharing this part of ourselves is reaching so deep it can leave profound emotions just acknowledging the pain that is there. I wish I had more words of comfort or of support of your bravery to talk about these things that so many keep inside. Sharing this helps so many people who have had loss. Love and hugs to you.

    Liked by 1 person

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