I lost a part of myself that day…

I lost a part of myself that day…

I thought it was going to be easy until it was not. I thought (as a good medical student) it was just a standard medical procedure but then it was more than that. I thought the second time around would be just as the first. I wanted answers, and I wanted them fast. I wanted to know what went wrong, I wanted to fix it. I wanted to understand from a scientific point of view what caused my two precious peanut boys to stop developing. And then, after the D&C was done, and I returned home, I felt an emptiness like I never had before. I lost a part of myself that day and the days that followed.

On the surgical room, the surgeon not only removed a physical part of me but she also took the emotional and spiritual parts of me that could never be replaced.
I vaguely remember going back to school like a zombie, not feeling anything but pain and sorrow. I had to be strong enough to study, take exams, go to medical school interviews, and be a balabusta. No matter what I did, that feeling of emptiness was not going away. Every time I read or saw a video with content related to pregnancy loss, I broke into tears. During those three months of non-stop bleeding (and non-stop niddah), all I wanted was a hug and a kiss from my husband. I was furious, confused, and miserable because of that never ending niddah status. More often than not I blame myself or my overactive immune system or the medications I was on. Then I followed to blame my husband and his nonchalant attitude. Finally, it became my obsession, to the point that my hubby said it was the only thing I talked about.

But how not to be obsessed with the fact that…

I will never kiss my babies.

I will never hear them cry.

I will never change their diapers.

I will never see them crawl.

They will never have a bris, bar mitzvah, or a chasuna.

It does not matter how much time passes, I will always love them and be obsessed because I lost an essential part of who I am. But I will never forget them nor will I ever stop being thankful for allowing me to be a mother for a short couple of months.

I am now able to talk (and write) about my loss without a meltdown, without tears in my eyes. And I have started to research and read scientific journals about the causes and treatments of pregnancy loss, which has helped me find some closure and has convinced me that it was not my fault. I have finally achieved the acceptance status, no more anger, no more resentment. I feel ready to try and love again.

 

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