Posted by: mountainmomma18 | February 22, 2010

Remember the other day when I said that funny blogging would return? I lied.

So I can say something now that I never have in my life been able to say, and it now starts with “My therapist says…” Yes I now have a therapist (something I am sure some people who know me think probably should have happened awhile ago) who is very nice, although a bit chipper. At least she is not one of those groovy touchy feely counselors; I have a real aversion to those people, blame my parents, damn hippies. Anyway, she told me that when surveyed people say that the time period for grief, for getting over something traumatic is six weeks. I was a bit shocked I mean six weeks? Really? I thought who the hell comes up with this stuff? But then it kind of makes sense, I mean if they figure six weeks is enough time to recover from birth, then most people would probably expect someone else to start functioning then too. Of course that became my problem. It’s not like I was catatonic or something, but my get up and go was gone. You see normally I am your standard Type A personality, always going, getting stuff done, starting new projects enjoying the race and being super accomplished, but after the miscarriage (for some reason always the, never my, maybe something to bring up in therapy) I didn’t do anything. The new house stayed unpacked and undecorated. The vacuum sat lonely and the laundry piled up. I just lost my motivation, G my therapist says that this is totally normal for us Type A peoples, and she gave me some tips to start getting my motivation back which have worked really well. I am painting the walls and hanging pictures and I have even picked up my camera again, which had also been neglected. I have been feeling great, I mean I still think about the baby every day, but now it’s not every minute, so there is progress. And of course all of this is just asking for a metaphorical bitch slap from the universe.

It is amazing the small things that can blindside you when you are least expecting it. Like one minute you are looking at new dining room tables on the Target website and then you see a facebook status about some college friend who you have not actually spoken to in ten years announcing that she found you she’s having a boy and bam, you’re a mole in a giant whack ‘em game. I seriously do not want to be one of those women who other women are afraid to mention pregnancy around. I mean I was reading another blog (that I won’t link to now because the last thing I need is some crazy leaving comments) where the author found out that they were pregnant with another child. Most comments were the normal stuff you would say, “hey congrats” and all that. But then there was another commenter who was offended that the author would announce and discuss this because some of her readers were dealing with infertility and loss. I made one of those faces, you know the ones were I think whoa- I know we have something in common, but I don’t really want to be you. Maybe it’s different because I have never dealt with infertility, because all the tests and the needle pricks came back negative so the doctors see no problem with giving me the go ahead to try again, so I do not know all situations, but I know mine. And while in the blink of an eye I am not enjoying pregnancy with some of my favorite tv characters anymore, that doesn’t mean I hate all pregnant people. It also doesn’t mean that seeing those round bellies and still getting the occasionally email about what week I am in (seriously how many times do I have to unsubscribe?) doesn’t hurt. But I do not want to be that woman, the one who other people discuss in hushed tones, the one people are afraid to tell their good news to, so I need to deal with that dark and twisty place (yes I watch Grey’s, don’t judge me) before it makes me into someone I don’t want to be. And I know that it will get easier eventually, so for now I need to let myself feel that gut check because the wound is so fresh, I can’t ignore, I have to deal.

Hey look at that, maybe therapy is working after all.



  1. This is ever so much a “people react differently” situation. I’m a total compartmentalizer, so seeing my pregnant friends was not so bad. There was the usual pregnant women everywhere phenomenon, and that was uncomfortable. But I never got so angry or so jealous as many of the infertile women whose blogs I read. I can understand why they want their friends to be careful with their feelings. In the ALI community, there is an expectation of care. Sometimes I think it’s excessive but then I remind myself that I can’t really understand how these people feel.

    You won’t become anyone you don’t want to be – and I think this post proves it pretty well.

  2. I had such a tough time with that, so I completely understand that you would be hurt every time. (My miscarriages came earlier, so I imagine they were much less bad.)

    I felt guilty telling some of my friends of my pregnancy because I knew they were struggling with the same thing. As long as you’re not nasty to anyone (and I doubt you are), you are perfectly entitled to feel bad.

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