I cried so much last night. It had been building for a while and I finally let it out. After taking my shoes off and dumping my bags when I got home, I walked into my bedroom with the intention of getting changed, and instead, collapsed on my bed, rolled into the fetal position and hugged my teddy bears while tears poured from my eyes.
I sobbed, sobbed like I hadn’t done since my ‘darkest hour’. I lay there and looked over at my wardrobe, took in each of the photos I have pinned up; photos of my family, my niece and nephews and friends. I took in the empty door where there had been photos of Gary and I; the empty space waiting for photos of the baby I should be carrying.
Nothing will be able to fill that space; fill the hole that I’m carrying, fill the void that’s weighing me down. Everyone keeps telling me that it will take time, to be patient with myself and I’ll feel better soon. But the hole is huge; the loneliness is real and the hurt is beyond anything I could have imagined.
I’ve been thinking constantly about being a mum lately. It’s more than just being clucky; it’s a desperate need inside me that is just itching to get out. I want to hold my baby in my hands; I want to feel a baby grow inside me, kick my belly; I want to give life to a living, breathing real-life baby. I want to raise and support children. My children. I want to be a mum. I need to be a mum.
There are things I need to work through before this can happen. There is of course the obvious step of finding someone to be the father, meeting someone special to raise children with. But as much as there are things to work on, this is a need inside me that I can’t let go of. I want to be a mum. I need to be a mum.
I read a post on Facebook recently about rainbow babies. I’d not heard of it before and shed a tear when I read the story. A lady bumped into another lady while shopping who was wearing a t-shirt with a rainbow on it, with a caption along the lines of carrying a ‘rainbow baby’. This was to signify that she was carrying a healthy baby after having previously suffered a miscarriage. I felt this woman’s pain but also felt envious of her. She still had her partner, a father for her baby; she had a baby growing inside her.
I don’t have either. I kicked my partner out in anger; I lost my baby. I don’t have hope in a nearby future where I’ll have either in my life again. I can’t see a rainbow baby. I’m absolutely devastated.
I cried while I wrote my last post. There is still so much more I need to work through, to share. I need to accept my body’s betrayal and deal with my time at the hospital. But maybe I finally am on my way to healing. My hole didn’t feel as big, as heavy, this morning. There will be more tears, more crying and more pain. But it will be short lived. I will get my rainbow baby and soon enough my hole will be a tiny speck – never gone, but supported with a rainbow of its own.