I am no longer pregnant.
I will not be a mother.
I will not have a child.
Not now.
I dreamed a dream. More than once. I have felt this devastation, this anguish before. It should be easier but it isn't. It's worse.
I was 31 the first time. I had just called off my engagement only to discover that I was going to be a mom. Never had I expected to feel love so deep for someone else. Words cannot describe the wonderment, the awe, the sheer joy I felt.
And then I was lost. Dead inside.
Years have gone by. My dream of being a mom has faded like the light fades into darkness. I had come to terms with never being a mom. There have been young men and children throughout these years who have turned to me as they would have to their mother if she had been there. So, I have been fulfilled to some degree by all these wonderful moments and these amazing young men and children. That hole, that emptiness that once was vast had dwindled to a tiny corner of my heart.
And then, hope found it's way back. I tried not to think about it. Ignore it. Because if it was taken away from me again, I couldn't imagine the heartbreak. I was younger before and the hope was there that it would happen again. My youth is no longer with me. My body is not as it once was. The chances of losing my little bean were far greater than keeping it and I refused to open myself up completely to the hope.
And now, I am empty. Lost.
I'm 44. Not old but by no means young. I'm plagued with doubt that I will ever get pregnant again. I'm not even sure that I want to. This pain is unbearable. This anguish may consume me yet.
I will grieve now. The support of my family and friends has sustained me for the past few days. Yes, I began to miscarry the day after my last post. I am heartbroken. There are no words that can comfort me. No arms that can console me. Peace will come but not right now.
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather
I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed
The dream I dreamed.
You're still in my thoughts and prayers. My wife and I miscarried twice so I have some small sense of the grief and you're right, peace will come. I admire your willingness to share your experience so openly. I don't think any of our friends even knew we were going through it. Maybe it would have been easier if we had shared our grief... Regardless, I mourn with you and I hope you find the comfort you need.
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