new feelings

I seem to be a little bored today, staying in bed all day like I have, so I am posting again.  Just in case you missed me...

I would like to assure you guys that ALL FERTILES ARE WELCOME HERE!  I am only KIDDING when I am teasing y'all.  Of course you can read my blog, comment, and follow my journey.  I am honoured that you are interested in my experience, and enjoy your comments very much.  So, please people, don't take me too seriously when I tease.

I was going to write "If I sound unfriendly and harsh, I am probably kidding", but that got me thinking about something...something uncomfortable and deeply buried, which I don't really want to dig out, but I think it's time.  When I was pregnant with Adrian, I was open to the world.  I wanted to give, to get involved, to learn about politics and international affairs, about wars about to erupt, about pollution, about the fate of Earth and humankind.  I also wanted to be friends with people, to get more and more integrated into our community, to share experiences.  Then, when I lost him, after I went through a couple of grief stages, some of which included anger and resentment, I alienated myself from people.  I am a very open person as it is, and it's hard to notice that I have closed myself in, since even at my most closed in I am still quite social.  But I know myself, and I noticed.  This is one of the tragedies of stillbirth, the loss of social network, because like it or not, others will have what you lost and remind you of your misfortune, or they will not understand and make upsetting comments, or they will be impatient or forgetful with your sorrow, or they simply will seem like they live in a parallel universe.

This notion of the parallel universe is still very vivid for me.  What makes us, humans, a collective society, is the fact that we share roughly the same types of experiences, and end up feeling roughly the same about life, with similar expectations and ways of acting.  Nowadays though, stillbirth and infant loss are fortunately very rare.  Only 1% of pregnancies end up in stillbirth (remember the rule of 1%), and even then, nobody talks about it, avoiding the subject like any other taboo.  What I have felt after losing Adrian was this immense sense of isolation, like I was the only one that this had happened to. Then I discovered the online community, when I was strong enough to start a blog, and it changed me a little.  I am more open and more accepting of my fate, especially after reading other's stories that seem at least as bad as mine, often worse.  It allows me to see that I have not been singled out by the universe, that bad luck happens to all of us, in different ways.

Over the past couple of days, what I have felt in particular was a desire to open myself up to the world again.  Undoubtedly, it has to do with this budding pregnancy, and undoubtedly, if this pregnancy were to end up badly, you'd find me hiding in the cupboard again.  But for now, I feel ready to rejoin the world.  I don't know how that will happen exactly.  I have alienated people with my harshness and my unapologetic refusal to take part in social activities.  I still feel mostly different from others, and largely misunderstood.  I often still feel singled out by fate, and hence need to hide, lest fate were to strike again in a tender spot.  However, in the midst of all this, I am slowly becoming aware of this new energy that is peaking through my shell, and will likely start to honour it soon.