It has been an amazing month. I got married just over a week ago and the whirlwind of change it is taking shape and sweeping through our lives again, with big moves and travelling planned over the next few months. It is the usual feeling of excitement with hope and those little elements of fear of looking into the unknown. I think the travel bug has bitten me and will possibly live inside me forever.
There is however a big part of me that feels deeply sad. I didn’t realise just how sad I was or what was causing this sadness until this morning. I found myself falling into a strange kind of depression when we came back to London last week. Initially I just thought it was that we had to come back to London and that the weather was bad, especially compared to beautiful Mallorca. Then I thought it was all the challenges of living in a house share with other people and the endless stresses associated with making our rent money each month. Then I realised it was something far bigger and more important than all of these little nuances of life and decisions we make and ultimately find ways to deal with.
You see, I had put something aside when we went off to get married. I decided not to deal with a deep emotion before we left and decided to think about the wedding and all the joys around that instead. I didn’t even give myself a chance to think about it and least of all share it with you. A part of me wanted to share it from the beginning but then I also felt a sense of fear that by saying it out loud it would make it more real.
It was real though. I was pregnant again and I lost my little one… again. As I write this, the tears are trickling down my face. I am lying in bed with some Chamomile Tea to try and soothe this inner pain. It somehow feels so much harder this time. Perhaps because I decided to shove it under the carpet and hoped the pain would somehow go away. Perhaps because it somehow makes my miscarriages a “trend”, a “phenomenon”, something that is recurring. I read an article from a friend of mine about how she is going to try for another baby and it filled me with so much jealousy and anger. I hated myself for even thinking these things. I feel cheated. It feels like everyone is getting to jump on whatever horse they want and ride it into the sunset and my horse just keeps throwing me off. The fall really hurts too!
For the first time in years since starting this blog, I wanted to disconnect with it. I wanted to disconnect because I felt like a fake. A fake for not being able to achieve a successful pregnancy. I didn’t want to stand under the label of “woman with Endometriosis”. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Endometriosis. That perhaps I could just dismiss it all and act like I was not a “member”. A member of women who suffer and fear and experience loss.
I feel like I have been distant. Distant in my writing and my sharing with you. I feel like perhaps it is because I don’t want to share the pain of this experience because I want to give you hope. I don’t want my experience to be proof of anything. I want to be a woman who changes lives for women with Endometriosis. I want to prove that anything is possible and perhaps sharing this will give some women a feeling of doubt.
I know deep down that I will have a child. I know that I wouldn’t be anywhere close to the level of health that I have now if it weren’t for the implementations and progress I have made through this blog. I know that my message will help you. I also want you to know that I am real, a real person who experiences the same emotions and things that you do, with your Endometriosis.
So, it is hard to share this blog message with you today and I truly hope that you can accept my apology for not sharing it sooner. I will no longer fear failing or living up to some higher expectation of what you might have about me. I will share my successes along with my failures and will be forever that voice of hope and health that you have come to love about me.
I know I will find strength again as I have done in the past, not just with my miscarriage but with Endo and myself, but for today perhaps what is needed is a deep sense of acknowledgement and respect for the loss I am allowed to feel. I have permission to be sad about it. I have permission to share it with you and on some level to feel like I have failed. I still feel like the gift of carrying life has eluded me, but celebrate the joyous changes I have made for my body and the amazing health that I still feel each day.