All I want for Christmas … is my baby. My George. He was due on Christmas Day.
I haven’t written a milestones of miscarriage post for a while because truth be told, we have just been plodding along. There haven’t been any big milestones that have come up. And we have been pretty distracted by having 3 further miscarriages since losing George. I have hated every period I’ve had just like the first. I’ve found pregnancy announcements harder and harder. Hope decreases. Fear and sadness increases. But nothing has stood out as a big bump in the road.
But this milestone has been looming on the horizon for a while now and the closer we get to George’s due date, the more imposing it becomes.
Yesterday I was given the simple task of compiling a Christmas list. After 5 hours, I gave up. I don’t want anything. Writing Christmas gift guides for Boo, M and my mama tribe has been such a wonderful distraction. But I can’t think about me. Because all I want is the empty hole inside me to be filled to bursting with a baby kicking my liver, causing me heartburn and hiccups and insomnia. I want to be weeks away from meeting our baby. I want my belly to be round with baby not cake. I want to be entirely focussed on preparing Boo for his arrival and making sure our room renovation is finished, ready for his arrival.
Instead, I am lying here in a half dismantled room. I cannot bring myself to do our room when there’s no baby to fill it. I don’t want to decorate and look at the empty space where his co sleeper should be.
I’m now the weight I was when I was full term with Boo. Maybe I’ve been sympathy eating. Growing my bump in the absence of a real one. About about a week before we lost George, I got all my maternity clothes down from the loft. I was starting to show despite only being 8 weeks. I packed up the clothes I wouldn’t be able to wear for the next few months and put them in the loft. They remain up there. I’ve worn maternity clothes or bought clothes in bigger size since losing George instead of going back to my normal size. I think this had just been my way of dealing with it – I didn’t want to fit in those clothes until after Christmas. Until after George was born.
The last few months have been such a muddle. I have felt confused and lost. Writing this blog has helped massively. Writing poems and posts helps me process the barrage of emotions as I face them. I have moments of acute pain then go back to the numb expanse of nothingness. The emotions always hit me hard but for a brief time. Most of the time I am totally numb and empty.
But as the due date approaches, I have started to feel again. Before i was frozen and numb. Now, I cry more and more. The realisation that there will be no baby or no pregnancy on Christmas Day is shocking. Losing George was a shock. The three subsequent losses were a blur. But never, for one minute, did I think I would still be empty on George’s due date. It never crossed my mind that we would struggle so hard. The shock of it all seems overwhelming. And so I cry.
I’ve reached this milestone before. Years ago. Before Boo. I know this bit is the worst. I know the day itself will be crushing. I know that I will finally feel able to say goodbye and that will be a release. But this bit, this countdown to the birth that should have been is crushing. I can’t catch my breath.