On Saturday I spent two and a half hours sprawled on my front, lying on the bed crying. I could feel it coming as soon as I got in the car to go home on Friday, when we broke up for summer; a sort of heaviness in the tummy; an ominous feeling. I think I know why it happened; I had been so concerned with making sure that everything went ‘ok’ at work, that I ended up in a sort of gluey bubble; I knew that other things were happening and that they were distressing, but I sort of floated through them, without letting anything truly penetrate my ‘I’m back at work and it can’t go wrong’ shell. But of course they all stuck to the outside, just waiting to fall through as soon as I let them.
On the 18th July it was our two year anniversary. I got my period that day, which of course let me know that I’m not pregnant yet, so that placed a net of disappointment over the day right from the start. We’re very strapped financially now, what with my maternity deductions, so we really couldn’t afford to do anything and we just gave each other cards. This is the first event in 6 years where all we’ve been able to do is buy cards, and it felt sad. When I took my card out from the drawer in the coffee table where I’d left it, and gave it to Sam, it seemed so diminutive, and lacking; a folded piece of card in an envelope – what’s the point? But, I think that even without all those things, the day seemed stuffed full to the seams with sorrow. I kept thinking to myself, ‘2 years…it’s only been 2 years’. In that 2 years we have had and lost two children. We’ve been through so much in such a short space of time that it seems impossible that it was only 2 years ago that we experienced that wonderful, beautiful day, and felt so happy and full of hope.
I’m also at the point where I am so, so sick of my weight. It was sports day at school last Thursday. And as daunting as it was, I put on my sports gear, in which I look even wider than in my normal clothes, and I ran a K, I did 4 ‘tugs of war’, I ‘wanged wellies’ (I’d never heard of it either..) and I cheered on the kids. And it was difficult. What made it worse, was that the next day, we had a final assembly, in which we viewed a slideshow of photographs taken on sports day. When I saw one of me, I felt sick. I’m able most of the time, to avoid looking at myself more than is necessary. I’ve had a very small amount of photographs taken over the last 18 months/2 years, because I find it so uncomfortable now. I find myself cringing and tensing whenever someone touches me in a place where I feel particularly fat, which is pretty much everywhere now. Because of the last time, I try not to get stressed about it, and I try not to let it upset me – I know that few people would see me walking down the street and say, ‘my God – look – that house is moving!’ But to me, I’m too big. WAY too big. And I’m trying – I’m still going to the gym a lot (yesterday I did an hour cardio and then a zumba class, today I did an hour cardio and a Pilates class) and eating carefully. And nothing is happening, and it’s so frustrating, and I’m certainly not going to get pregnant again if I can’t stand to be naked or touched…
There are also other things that I think about a lot – some I can talk about, some I can’t – most of which I can’t control. My mind is like a pit of snakes – full of different thoughts all of different lengths and types, and they end up knotted together, hissing and snapping at each other, and I can’t seem to get hold of any of them long enough to make it calm.
I wish that this grief thing were a bit more predictable – just when it feels like things might be ok, I end up going so far backwards that it takes me by surprise. It’s been a long time since I lay and cried for such a duration. But wishing is futile.
Hopefully, things will look up over summer. Hopefully, I won’t have too many more ‘meltdowns’ (it’s very inconvenient to have a large part of your day taken up by crying…). It’s all about hope and fortitude, both of which unfortunately, can be transient, and difficult to regain once lost.