The Beginning of the End?

Truth be told, there was no beginning of the end.  Our relationship was flawed but it was manageably flawed.  That is, until the miscarriage.

Some background before getting into that big issue:  My ex and I met in college.  He was always very adamant about not wanting children… ever.  At the time, so was I.  I was in my early 20’s and just started living.  I couldn’t even imagine being tied down with kids.  Well that changed.  As our relationship progressed, I wanted children more and more.  My ex did not.  Yes, we talked about it and tried to compromise and then didn’t and there is so much detail and struggle that came of it.

Anyway…

About a year ago I got pregnant.  It was not a planned pregnancy and took us both by surprise.  When I found out… the joy it brought me was almost too overwhelming to think about.  I loved something so profoundly so instantly.  I had never felt that way before.  I was scared, of course but I was mostly hopeful.  The ex didn’t react well.  He did a pro/con list.  He mentioned that he was glad he knew what my opinions were on abortion.  He made vague references to the test being faulty.  He just wasn’t supportive in the way I needed.  BUT IT DIDN’T MATTER!  I was happy.  I was happy because I was pregnant and it was with the man I wanted to do it with.

Soon after that, I woke up to cramping.  Then I started bleeding.  Then the pain got worse.  Then I started crying.  He woke up and urged me to call my doctor.  It was explained to me that I was experiencing a miscarriage and I should just ride it out at home.

As overwhelming as my love for something so instantly was, my grief over losing something was even more so.  I felt cheated.  I felt wronged.  I felt like I was responsible.

Over the next few days were doctors visits and bloodwork.  Some were quite traumatizing and others were just sad.  My ex came with me to all of them.  He held my hand and heard me cry.  What he didn’t do and what I wanted him to do was grieve with me.  This loss was something that I needed to share with him and he couldn’t.  Yes, he was concerned over my well being.  But I didn’t matter.  Our baby mattered and then it was gone.

We took a trip soon after.  It was a combined anniversary and forgetting about the miscarriage trip.  We went to New Orleans and I drank a lot of Hurricanes and got a tattoo.  It was as fun as it was going to be.  While there, we didn’t talk about the miscarriage.  We didn’t talk about us.  We tried to experience the city and the pulse of it all but this elephant was in the room and we couldn’t or maybe I couldn’t shake it.  I spent a lot of nights in our BnB just staring at the ceiling while he urged me to go out with him.  I did go out and I drank and I laughed then I would stare at the ceiling some more.

It was hard coming back.  Nothing changed.  Nothing was fixed.  He wanted me to get better but I didn’t want to.  Only days after we returned I found out one of my friends was pregnant.  The pain and self hatred was like nothing I had ever felt.  I relived the trauma of losing my child over and over again in so many different ways.  Thru it all my ex was there silent in the background waiting for this all to blow over.  He never played an active role in the healing process and I think he didn’t want to.  Either out of self preservation or a lack of necessity he never let himself feel the pain of it all like I did.

So yeah, I think that experience drove us so far apart that we just couldn’t get back.

Recently I listened to The Mountain Goats “The Mess Inside”.  It was good.  It made me feel a lot of things that I wasn’t ready to address but in some way, it helped.

Side note:  My friend had her baby and he is gorgeous.  He is a little thing that smiles and only cries a little.  The first time I held him, I cried.

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