Shit happens

Saturday, 27 June 2009

Sometimes you remain cynical and profess a lack of faith in the universe due to the constant occurrence of bad shit happening to good people and yet some small crevice of our emotional manor is reserved with that tiny flicker of hope, because without hope we sink with hope being the one float and weapon that we have in this life. It glows like a shard of someones soul that you once borrowed and never gave back instead you carry it in a pocket of your heart as a torch to ward off the darkest places you travel through. Everybody needs to believe in something.

& yet sometimes that light gets snuffed out, irrevocably so. You begin to lose faith and you start to rewrite the autobiography of the universe in which it is unveiled as the archetypal villain that you never quite wanted to believe it was.

Miscarriage doesn't just rob you of a baby, a dream, of hope, of completion, of potential it digs and burrows further, excavating to the depths of your plundered heart until it starts to hack at it's very foundations and removes it's innocence.

With pregnancy comes an air of innocence, you fear the worse but it is over-ridden by the joy and expectations that the odds are in your favour and that no matter how much you fear, it will be overcome. Until the worst happens it remains the unknown something that's shaded and blurred at the edges as you lack the knowledge and experience to sketch in the vivid details. When you've had one or two or even more successful pregnancies under your belt the fear only intensifies and yet it also remains more abstract the stringer it gets the more detail it loses because the comparison, the success, is real and tangible and overpowers it. No matter how much you fear somewhere, this faith in the universe prevails and you believe, that things will be okay, because they have been before and because they have to be again.

However, once this faith is broken or should i say smashed it takes with it this exuberant innocence. The excitement of a BFP turns into some morbid petrifying start of an unknown journey that's stripped of light and becomes dark and eerie. The fear is now real. The fear is now everything. The knowledge of it going wrong is now stronger the the hope of a happy ending. Hope becomes at one with the faeries and daydreams and fear takes root and strengthens and that becomes your reality. Reality always wins over the dreams. Instead of squealing with delight and bubbling with nervous excitement that you have achieved a bfp the thought of it is now just the start of a journey which is weighted with a sadness so great that you can still feels it's once raw bruise turn hard and sharp inside you. The moment is now edges and bladed waiting to cut through. Before every twinge you feared was a miscarriage, afterwards every twinge is just the start of the end. You've lost that quintessential hope that bobs you above the fear that turns the inevitable into the malleable changeable hope, that things will and can be okay. The prospect of a future pregnancy is no longer exciting, it's something you must face and endure without that torch to guide you through it, without the innocence that can blinker your eyes. You're forced to walk down that path with your eyes pinned open, unable to even blink for a second from the fear as you wonder, can you revive hope? Can the need to believe that things could maybe be okay resuscitate and re-inflate that which gets us through?

So you wait, with baited breath and swollen heart for the universe to realign and correct itself and you realise that maybe, just maybe you had a tiny shard of hope hidden all along and the only question that remains is...is it enough? enough to see us through this?.

Is the need to believe strong enough to overcome the death of belief?

& like a soldier we have a choice we can flee or we can fight asking yourself do you believe enough in the cause to stay and fight? Do you believe that you can change things?

Somehow I believe that I will have another baby so I'll fight, with tooth and nail because I want one too much to not fight. I guess to overcome our fear, we have to face it.

Without our innocence.

& with the realisation that, shit happens.

1 comment:

  1. Over from British Mummy bloggers.

    Oh boy! I can so relate to this post but somehow you seem to say it so much better than I ever could. I've had 5 pregnancies, only 2 made it full term. 1 was ectopic, 2 were miscarriages. From the moment I learnt I was pregnant, I remember feeling excited, working out the day they were born, thinking about whether it was a boy or a girl, what names we would call it. Then just like that - gone!

    Since experiencing the miscarriages and the ectopic pregnancy, I have met many, many others who have had a similar experience. It seems like an unwritten rule, no-one ever talks about until it happens. For me, talking about it was my therapy.

    I hope you are physically feeling a little better it will probably a while before the emotions start to feel better.

    By the way you write really well.

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