The power of smiling: a recount of losing my first pregnancy.
I was thinking about when I was going to have the balls to write about this. It's not that this is an excuse for another post. It's not. But since this little place in internet heaven is more than a place for me to write how angry I am at clients or at life in general, it certainly is the right place for me to write this down, because while I know I am ok and the pain has gone a bit, I need to tell someone.
I haven't discussed this, at length, with anybody. I lost a pregnancy that I didn't know I had. My doctor, very matter-of-factly said it to me with a very calm voice. I know that he does it every single day, and I know why he just blurted it out with no sugar coating - because after more than a decade, he knows me and he knows how stress fucks me up. So he wanted me to get to the bottom line without giving me all the show before the main event.
I remember that I winced but I kept talking to him, like I was a rock. A superwoman who had nerves of steel. He smiled, told me that it was natural and that there was hope. Don't quit, let's just keep trying, he said.
Yeah.
So I get in my car, drive home. I open my door and my boyfriend stares at me. He knew that something bad was going on, but I didn't tell him that it could be what it ended up being... I started crying, but I still wanted to be the superwoman so I quit very quickly. I was sort of in shock. What just happened? What was what the doctor said? Maybe you lost a baby? Really? That happened to me? Days went on and I didn't want to go into it. My boyfriend sort of noticed, I guess. While he was very kind, he told me not to be sad and that we should keep trying, it was like I felt nothing.
And since I felt nothing, I decided that I was going to extend that "feeling" until I wanted. No pain. This sort of thing happens, such is life. Period. Let's move on to the next job, to the next pitch, to the next weekend vacation.
The pain hit me like a ton of bricks, one day at a children's theme park. It was a little after noon and there we were, stuck in a parade. We both are two very dark people loaded with sarcasm, but we decided to play along the "merry go round" experience and go happy happy joy joy that weekend, along with thousands of people. While we were jokingly having way too much fun, cartoony in some way, I turned my head laughing and saw this little boy perched up his dad's shoulders. He saw his favorite character and gave the most single amazing little smile you could ever see... and my heart broke into pieces.
Shit, as I write this, you cannot understand how much it hurts still. I wanted that experience. I wanted that smile coming from a little one of my own. My eyes got very teary and I had to pretend to walk away to see something while I breathed a little and made a huge effort not to start sobbing like an idiot in front of people dressed up like animal characters and sunburned tourists. My boyfriend didn't notice - I didn't want him to get upset. Besides. This was not the place to "go there".
So I bagged my pain once again and have never talked about it - until now. Maybe that helped a bit. I now can at least tell some people. So this means I'm doing better...
So! What's the lesson here? I think that sometimes you really - and I mean really - need to toughen up and just fight through the really bad moments. If I had stopped to feel sorry about myself, maybe I would have gone in a weird depression. It's ok to feel pain and sadness, but you cannot let it control you. You fall down, you dust yourself off, you keep smiling, you keep getting up in the morning and eventually you find yourself content, and sort of still full of hope.
I'm not quitting on that little smile. Not yet. Don't you ever quit unless there is no other solution, ok?
Much love. Me.
I haven't discussed this, at length, with anybody. I lost a pregnancy that I didn't know I had. My doctor, very matter-of-factly said it to me with a very calm voice. I know that he does it every single day, and I know why he just blurted it out with no sugar coating - because after more than a decade, he knows me and he knows how stress fucks me up. So he wanted me to get to the bottom line without giving me all the show before the main event.
I remember that I winced but I kept talking to him, like I was a rock. A superwoman who had nerves of steel. He smiled, told me that it was natural and that there was hope. Don't quit, let's just keep trying, he said.
Yeah.
So I get in my car, drive home. I open my door and my boyfriend stares at me. He knew that something bad was going on, but I didn't tell him that it could be what it ended up being... I started crying, but I still wanted to be the superwoman so I quit very quickly. I was sort of in shock. What just happened? What was what the doctor said? Maybe you lost a baby? Really? That happened to me? Days went on and I didn't want to go into it. My boyfriend sort of noticed, I guess. While he was very kind, he told me not to be sad and that we should keep trying, it was like I felt nothing.
And since I felt nothing, I decided that I was going to extend that "feeling" until I wanted. No pain. This sort of thing happens, such is life. Period. Let's move on to the next job, to the next pitch, to the next weekend vacation.
The pain hit me like a ton of bricks, one day at a children's theme park. It was a little after noon and there we were, stuck in a parade. We both are two very dark people loaded with sarcasm, but we decided to play along the "merry go round" experience and go happy happy joy joy that weekend, along with thousands of people. While we were jokingly having way too much fun, cartoony in some way, I turned my head laughing and saw this little boy perched up his dad's shoulders. He saw his favorite character and gave the most single amazing little smile you could ever see... and my heart broke into pieces.
Shit, as I write this, you cannot understand how much it hurts still. I wanted that experience. I wanted that smile coming from a little one of my own. My eyes got very teary and I had to pretend to walk away to see something while I breathed a little and made a huge effort not to start sobbing like an idiot in front of people dressed up like animal characters and sunburned tourists. My boyfriend didn't notice - I didn't want him to get upset. Besides. This was not the place to "go there".
So I bagged my pain once again and have never talked about it - until now. Maybe that helped a bit. I now can at least tell some people. So this means I'm doing better...
So! What's the lesson here? I think that sometimes you really - and I mean really - need to toughen up and just fight through the really bad moments. If I had stopped to feel sorry about myself, maybe I would have gone in a weird depression. It's ok to feel pain and sadness, but you cannot let it control you. You fall down, you dust yourself off, you keep smiling, you keep getting up in the morning and eventually you find yourself content, and sort of still full of hope.
I'm not quitting on that little smile. Not yet. Don't you ever quit unless there is no other solution, ok?
Much love. Me.
