Shake the Frost

I could tell something wasn’t right, but my bladder was going to explode so that was all I could focus on. It was beyond full. I chugged a bottle of water on the way to the appointment before I had to sit in a waiting room as My Love tried to make me laugh to calm my nerves “Stop, I’m going to piss myself” is all I could say, my anxiety getting the better of me. I ran to the bathroom as soon as she was done the ultrasound and returned to the darkened room with only My Love sitting on his seat strategically placed much closer to mine despite her telling him not to move it. We didn’t talk much about it, but I knew he was worried as well. All we could do was wait for her to return with the doctor. Something was off. When they finally came into the room it was painfully obvious that they weren’t equipped to deliver this news.

“Well, I’m afraid I have some bad news” he said shakily… and then I heard nothing else. I didn’t look at My Love. I couldn’t. It was over… our baby was gone. I had so many questions, but all I wanted to do was get out of there as fast as I could. I needed air. I couldn’t breathe. She told us they would contact my doctor in Yellowknife regarding further appointments without making too much eye contact. Weird, this was hard on her too.

We sat in the waiting room for what seemed like hours. He held my hand and told me to be strong while my lip quivered and tears slowly streamed down my face. “What are we going to tell your grandma?” I asked. We were planning to visit her in the hospital in a couple of days and the news of a baby on the way had seemed to brighten her mood. She wasn’t well, and I couldn’t bare the thought of delivering this news. As soon as I let myself recognize the loss of our child, my tears were no longer containable. My Love estimates that it was only a half an hour before the ultrasound technician found us again and told us that we were free to go, no more appointments necessary, still uncomfortable with making eye contact. I can’t blame her, why of all days did I decide to wear eyeliner?

We walked quickly to the elevator, and quicker out of the building. It had started… I couldn’t contain it. The tears came heavily as soon as I breathed in the fresh air. I didn’t care who was around, I didn’t live in this city, I fully unraveled. We made it to the parking lot before my legs gave out, I gripped onto him with all my remaining strength and screamed. He ushered me to his truck as I sobbed uncontrollably and tried as hard as I could to regulate my breathing. He had sat with me and held me up all the way to the comfort of his own vehicle before it was his turn.

The following days were a blur, a mixture of waking up hysterically crying with the awareness of our new reality, and pressing on with what we were there to do… move My Love to Yellowknife so we could be together, finally. He’d tell me that I didn’t look as bad as I felt and I was able to pretend that I wasn’t broken. We even had fun on several occasions, which still brings me guilt. I was angry though. I was mad at myself. I was mad at my body. I was mad at him. I was mad at the universe. I was mad at everything that I prayed to that our baby be safe.

My doctor called to tell me that it was a missed miscarriage. My body wasn’t recognizing the loss. She explained what that meant and how common it is. 1 in 4 apparently. It was when she told me that despite me being 36, it wasn’t my fault when I started to cry. I needed to hear that, I still didn’t believe it, but it sounded nice. I didn’t dare tell her that I hadn’t fully stopped smoking cigarettes, had alcohol before I knew I was pregnant, that I was stressed the entire time, that I had deli meat once, and that I accidentally enjoyed an entirely too hot bath the night before the ultrasound.

My Love didn’t blame me, we told ourselves that it was out of our control and that we would try again as soon as my idiot body (my words, not his) started and finished this miscarriage. We were going to persevere. Together we were going to continue with our plans to be better people, to be good parents. It was only a setback, we were still going to have a child, there just wasn’t another option. He packed his things, and brought me home so I could begin the process. We stopped on the way so he could visit with his grandma. I was so worried about what she’d think of me. Scared she would know that I was unable to carry his child, that I failed, that I fucked up. It wasn’t the case… It was never mentioned, she was already too sick. At that point she just wanted to see her grandchild, to hold his hand one more time.

In Yellowknife I was given medication to induce the miscarriage, we were told about how my body would most likely react and sent home with both of us anticipating the worst, worried about what was to come. My Love fussed over me, ensured I was comfortable at all times, I adored him for all he was doing and how much he cared… Except the miscarriage never came, my body didn’t want to let go, even after 7 doses. The pregnancy hormones weren’t depleting and I was still left with the symptoms of a healthy pregnancy.

I needed surgery and My Love needed to go. Sadly his grandma passed shortly after our visit, and his family needed him.

I had already booked time off of work to go visit My Love and help with the move, not expecting this outcome. Both of our jobs couldn’t be ignored simply because this was getting complicated. Road trips, hotels, and trips to Ikea weren’t cheap so we had to both go back to work, and his job unfortunately was not yet in Yellowknife. I was relying on My Love for so much at that time. I needed reassurance, I needed support, and I needed him to get back as soon as he could so we could try again. It was the hardest goodbye yet. I felt nauseous the day My Love left. Truth be told, I also felt abandoned, and more vulnerable than I could have ever imagined.

After I was rolled out of the operating room I woke up immediately. The tears began again, this time I knew it was final… Our baby was gone, forever. My body had no choice but acceptance now. Knowing that it was no longer inside of me was the most gut wrenching pain I’ve ever experienced. Dead or alive, I wanted that baby to stay with me. Now I truly felt empty, literally gutted.

All I wanted was My Love, he planned to come back the following month and my lack of patience was getting the best of me. He was balancing all aspects of his life and our distance seemed more than physical space. If only I gave him the time he needed. If only I didn’t press him so hard to come back to me… I felt like I was losing him too, and I started to panic.

In one month I’ve lost everything that mattered to me. My heart was already broken before I also lost My Love… I was getting through the miscarriage with knowing that I still had him, that we’d try again. There is nothing now. He couldn’t even leave me with false hope. I don’t blame him, he said he wasn’t well and in a dark place. I understand.

I’m heartbroken beyond repair. I’m in my own dark place. I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of insanity. I want this hurt to stop. I want My Love. I want my baby. I want everything to be as it was before. I can’t get this pain out of me, out of my head, out of my heart… All I want to do is scream, but all I can do is cry.