My husband's hair dresser knows about the miscarriage because she also recently had a miscarriage and these days when someone we haven't seen in a while asks: "How are you? What's been going on?" here's an approximation of the answer that runs through our heads: "Miscarriagemiscarriagemiscarriage."
Sometimes, if it's too much information for that particular person, we just say "same old" and proceed with some how's-the-weather kind of conversation.
Anyway, Liz, the hair dresser, knows about the miscarriage. She told him at his last appointment to be wary of my reaction when I finally did get my period because it's kind of like a reminder of the whole incident and can be pretty emotional.
Living in denial, as I tend to do on a regular basis, I viewed the impending period as exactly what it was. Just another period. And then it arrived and turned out to be more than that.
My reaction wasn't even conscious. I wasn't even necessarily that disturbed that this was an extremely heavy period -- heavier even than the bleeding following the miscarriage, and heavier than any period I've ever had, period. (heh)
I think it disturbed me on a subconscious level. I was exhausted, and sad on a different level ... It was sadness and a real hate of me. My inner monologue: God, sometimes I just hate myself. What in the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I get it together? If I could just live in the woods by myself for maybe six months, maybe I could stop hating me, stop hating everyone else, stop being such a sucky, boring, repetitive asshole. I hate everything. Why is everyone so annoying and demanding? The holidays are coming. Is there any way at all that I can opt out of the holidays? God, why do the holidays all have to be so close together and suck so bad?
I'm a real joy to live with. Just ask my husband.
I believe I'm pulling out of it.
Some women say the only way they can handle this post-miscarriage span of time is to immediately become pregnant again. That would be a great distraction, and I totally get that. More power to them. I won't do it until I'm ready. Good and ready.