I’ve never felt more “in recovery” than I did when I was pregnant.
The moment the second line appeared on the stick, everything changed.
Nothing was about me anymore; fueling the growing child inside me became my only goal.
There was a sense of peace and “this finally makes sense”.
Eating Cheetos for breakfast when baby called for Cheetos, and salad when she wanted salad.
I never felt so content and in tune with my body than when I was pregnant.
And I never felt LESS recovered, than when I was no longer pregnant.
Navigating Grief
Navigating grief is a tricky thing.
Your mind teeters between “this is your fault” and “you could not have prevented this”.
Your body fights to stay intact when your heart tries to crumble a little less every day.
There is no roadmap, only muddy footprints from strangers on the internet that have walked the path of loss before you.
That will either tell you what you’re feeling is normal, or that you should have closure.
That you should either completely fall apart, or take it all in stride because you can “always try again”.
There never seems to be an in-between, so you try to create one.
The Process
For those that have not been through a D+E before, the first day is the hardest, physically.
Oh yeah, and it’s split between two days – just when you thought it couldn’t get more fun.
I remember the doctor handing my husband the prescription for a non-addictive muscle relaxer.
Because I’m not allowed to have the addictive kind.
“I’m not going to take it”.
Then the pain gets so bad and, coupled with the emotions running amok in your brain, you take it.
But it doesn’t work.
So you lay on the couch wide awake all night, knowing it’s the last night you will have with your child.
And the meds don’t work, so you feel it all.
Saying Goodbye
They give you more pills to take the morning of your surgery.
The pills make you want to vomit but, then again, so does the situation and your life as a whole.
When you wake up from the procedure, your body struggles into limbo.
Your mind picks up right where it left off, only 9 years prior.
Suddenly you’re staring at the footprints of a child who didn’t make it to earth, and while you’re blaming your past illness, you also crave the very activities that caused that illness.
You go home and lay on the couch and you can see in your mind clear as day where the pills are in the medicine cabinet.
But you know that your body has gone through enough, and you don’t act on it.
Because in that same mind, you think you’re going to get pregnant again.
Change of Plans
You don’t get pregnant again.
Not the moment you are cleared to try.
Not the month after that.
And certainly, not any of the additional two months after THAT.
“Why am I even doing this?”
“This” being the 9+ years of recovery you have under your belt.
Only working out 40 minutes, 4-5 days a week.
Eating enough calories to support your activity level.
Avoiding the alcohol you drank religiously during your 16th and 17th year of life, and the pills in your closet with someone else’s name on the bottle.
Avoiding the bathroom after meals and not going to bed starving.
“What’s even the point if I can’t get pregnant again?”
The Point
Well dear, the point is this:
Should you choose to participate in any of those activities again, you would lose everything.
Regardless of having to say goodbye to your child before you even got to say hello, getting in and staying in recovery has gotten you a stable job, the world’s greatest husband, and a family that loves you.
Being in recovery has gotten you a college education you had to medically discharge from TWICE before starting and finishing (besides Statistics but we don’t talk about that).
Being in recovery has allowed you the energy to workout, the discipline to take rest days and the ability to eat a piece of chocolate without canceling all your plans for weeks afterwards.
Being in recovery allowed you to get pregnant.
And it certainly did not cause you to lose that pregnancy.
Just Hold On
So just hold on.
And while I know that’s probably the worst advice in the entire world (behind “just keep trying, you’ll get pregnant” of course), it’s the one sentence that never stops being applicable.
Going through pregnancy loss?
Just hold on.
Didn’t get pregnant again right away?
Just hold on.
Starbucks get your order wrong?
Just hold on.
See? It works everywhere.
Just hold on.
Because your recovery will never not be worth it.
