When contemplating my next post last Friday, my plan was unwavering: I was going to tell you all how much October has sucked for me and I would have invited you to sign my petition to officially change the name to Sucktober. I was going to regale you with tells of my melancholy and invoke references to Wuthering Heights and Anna Karenina. I was going to be depressed and depressing, all at the same time. In short, I was going to try to make you feel as awful as I did. After all, misery loves company.
All of last week, I was a few tears short of a geyser at any given moment. I went through a lot of mascara and Kleenex. I was very upset about something, the etymology of which I wasn’t really that interested in determining. I was too exhausted from being sad and the general wallowing that accompanies it. Work was also particularly demanding, which proved to be a welcome respite from the other option of staring out the window in silent, slobbering contemplation. No doubt about it - I was a laugh riot.
I now know that I was experiencinng another little earthquake of feelings about my miscarriages, triggered in part by the national remembrance day. That morning, I sent an email to my three closest friends telling them what the day was – I didn’t even know about it until a month ago, so I really didn’t expect them to know at all. I wanted them to know that it would be much on my mind and for them to remember someone, myself included, who had experienced a loss.
I initially felt so selfish sending that email. I have no problem calling attention to my grief on my blog, but it is something else entirely to send an email whose essential purpose is to say, remember me and the bad crap that has happened to me! But, my desire to do it outweighed my guilt and I don’t regret it - they all sent back wonderful, beautiful emails. I also asked my parents, who are out of the country, to light a candle. I hardly ever speak with them about my miscarriages, mainly because it just doesn’t come up in daily conversation. They also sent wonderful notes and my mom lit a candle at the church just up the street from where they are staying.
I lit my candles from 7pm to 8pm and marveled at them flickering so brightly. I hated to blow them out. But, Mr. X and I made no formal remembrance with the both of us that day. I see now that this was a mistake. I needed to be with him that night, to remember with him and to grieve with him.
Despite the multiple crying jags I had on Wednesday, I felt no better on Thursday or Friday. By Saturday, I was in a ripe funk, barely able to smile. We went to the gym that morning and I was tortured by three different pregnant ladies. I was so demoralized.
I finally broke down later that morning, on Mr. X. He let me have a huge, loud, and ugly cry all over him. I slobbered on him, I blubbered, I’m sure I got some snot on him. I heaved, and he just let me get it all out. I told him how I was still so sad and how much I still missed our little ones. I told him how much my heart still hurts. And, he said just the right things at the right time. I knew all over again just why I married him.
And, I finally started to feel better. I also realized that the entire month of October, despite being the month in which both of our babies would have been here, does not have to be written off in a depressive haze. I am allowed to have fun, to laugh, to be joyful. I think I thought I could not be those things given the weight of the month. We went on to have a wonderful weekend. Just the two of us.