I’ve written this blog post a dozen times, and a dozen more in my head, thinking of what to say and how to say it. My content/trigger warning will have given the game away somewhat, but it is so much more than any one word can describe. Last year saw heartbreak when after 4 years of trying, we lost our baby. We decided to chase the loss with hope, and started trying again as soon as it was medically advisable. We were lucky and conceived quickly, in January.
We counted the days. I was super careful and wouldn’t do anything I thought may be bad for the baby, even though I was convinced that everything would be okay. No more false starts, this was the main event! When I reached 12 weeks we were joyous! We were safe! I started to tell people the reason behind my swollen middle. We had just a week to wait till we could see our baby on the big screen, hear her heart beating.
In that time I started bleeding, first a little then a lot. I hoped and prayed as I had before. I had had 4 gut wrenching losses for our 4 years of trying, but this wasn’t it, it wasn’t!
Except it was. We went to hospital. On the screen we saw the place where our baby was still meant to be tucked up safe and warm. Except she wasn’t. My ‘healthy overies and healthy uterus’ had yet again failed is. I cried, and I kind of haven’t stopped. That was two weeks ago.
I won’t go through the medical stuff here as losing a baby is a horrid thing to go through. I am being referred to people who investigate ‘recurrent miscarriage’ (3 or more in a row). These two weeks have been bloody hard and lasted a lifetime. I was dragged, kicking and screaming into a distorted depression fuelled by hormones and grief. I tried to keep it together. Till I couldn’t…
This morning I sat and cried. I said to my husband, who has his own set of feelings about our journey, that I was not well. That I knew this would pass but I needed his understanding, I needed his support. I could not do this on my own…
And in a day my viewpoint shifted, little by little, till I could see the light again. I knew then that I could move into the light instead of standing in the shadow that it cast. Of course it’s not that simple. I’ve suffered episodes of depression all my life, some with a clear ‘reason’ for being there and some that just strolled in to mess with my head. I know depression and it knows me. But every time depression and low mood come knocking, I suddenly forget to ask for help!!
It feels like it was never an option, and people wouldn’t understand, or care…and you don’t want to talk to people anyway…you can sort this out yourself. This too shall pass you remember, other than when you are in the darkest depths, you know it will end. You just don’t know when, and how…are you forget, I forget to ask for help!!
You will get better, you will feel better, this will end, but not all the time you let depression and its intrusive thoughts run round and round your brain.
I am hurting, but it will end. I have friends who are happy to listen, to cheer me up and send me kind messages. To make a cup of tea or suggest a box set that will warm your soul. Maybe they don’t know what you’re going through…maybe they do. Maybe just being there with you through the rough patches, and loving you anyway is enough.
Depressions sucks, and so does life at times. But we’re not alone. For me I know that as long as I can remember that, as long as I can ask for help before I’m pulled under, I’ll be okay, and you will to.