A Second Trimester Loss: The Aftermath

“This will not break me.” I said this to my therapist today. I told her I think humans just have an innate resilience in the face of trauma and she said no, that’s unique to my character. That made me feel good for a second before I was quickly reminded of the long road of grief ahead. I hate that I’ve become an expert in this field. 

I can still feel his movements or maybe it’s all in my head. Sometimes I forget and believe I’ll be bringing home our baby boy in August and C.C. will have a baby brother, and that I can finally be done with pregnancy horrors and anxiety. 

But, on Wednesday, as I waited hours to be taken back to surgery in the cold, dim room they put me in, surrounded by other people waiting to go back to surgery for various reasons - cancer, bladder issues, liver, etc. - I was reminded that this was real. 

I was reminded one day prior when I was left crying in the chair after a very painful procedure to get my cervix dilated. Pro tip: When they say “it might be a little crampy”, that’s code for it’s going to hurt like hell. 

I’m left now listening to C.C. cry for me downstairs while I try to recover in bed with only my thoughts to distract me, a very dangerous thing. I’m doing my best to maintain my mental health this time around but the isolation and grief that comes with this experience is grueling. I’m agitated. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m furious. I’m enraged. I’m actually just really mad at the moment, which I know will pass, but it’s very uncomfortable and doesn’t feel good to me. 

I’ve been through so much trauma that literally everything is a trigger: 

  1.  Women with their moms. 

  2. Women who are grandmothers. 

  3. Three generations of girls/women. 

  4. Pregnancy announcements 

  5. People with twins 

  6. The baby aisle at target 

  7. Baby boy clothes 

  8. Baby brothers 

  9. Young siblings 

  10. Pregnant women 

  11. ….the list goes on. 

How am I supposed to live my life like this? I feel like I’m playing a bad game of dodgeball trying to avoid all of these triggers. The only other option is to go through them like a freight train with my eyes closed and hoping I don’t crash and burn. 

I know compartmentalizing is key but I’m at the point where I have no more compartments. I’m out of storage.  

While the hard day of surgery is behind me, I know the hardest days are coming. The days where I have to step back into society and perform again as if, once again, my entire world has not been flipped upside down, the rug pulled out from underneath me. 

The fresh triggers of pregnant women and baby boys will haunt me as if I’m in a scary movie, and I’ll do my best to keep my head down and move fast, but I know I’ll end up in the bathroom stall, tears streaming down my face as I hyperventilate and try to catch my breath. I’ll regain my composure and splash water on my face, like I’ve done so many times, and step back into my life to put on the Bonnie show, the one where my heart is not entirely broken and my life shattered. 

Why do I always find myself back here? I get so close to happiness and the bliss others feel, only for it to be pulled away from me with the heartbreaking reality that trauma surrounds me. There is no way for me to escape it. 

My therapist told me she would remind me of what I said today, that I should put it on my bathroom mirror on days that I forget. I already forget who that resilient person is. What I do know is that one day I will bring home a sibling for C.C., whatever that takes. The thought of going through this again is terrifying but the thought of never completing my family breaks my heart even more.

Mom, I’ve asked for you to come through in any way to provide comfort during this time. Where are you? I need you so much right now. My grief for you comes out in full force during these times. You’re the only person I want to comfort me, but you’re the only person who cannot. The anger cycle continues…. 

Please come through. Love you, infinity. Hold my baby boy tight. 

Love, 

Your sweetheart

Xoxo