the miscarriage, I have been struggling with intense feelings of confliction and confusion, of hurt and gratitude, of pain and relief. Most of the time now, I can look back on it with acceptance, certain that my starbaby didn't come because the time wasn't right and he knew it, that I needed more years to grow and learn before I could be a good mama.
Then there are moments like last night, hours where I feel so tender and vulnerable. A friend who just went through a miscarriage of her own, who knows about mine, texts me pictures of her adorable little boy, one year old with golden hair, asleep in a high chair all covered in chocolate. And there is an intense knife-stab of pain through my chest, blinking away tears as this ache travels through my heart. I know that she didn't mean anything by it, that she wasn't trying to be insensitive or cruel, and thus, I felt guilty for feeling so badly. Ashamed that I couldn't be stronger, especially when I know in my heart that everything turned out for the best.
The gremlins clung to my mind after that, giving me a night of bad dreams and a stomach that cannot choke down food. I am aware of how disconnected I feel from my body, how foreign it is now. My moon cycle has been regular since I was twelve and a half years old, and I knew the ebb and flow of my emotions when the moon begin to grow and shrink.
Now, it comes irregularly. Every three weeks, then two weeks later, then three and a half weeks. I feel swollen and sick lately, which I know to be false. I still weigh my typical one hundred and four pounds. I don't feel fit and strong and free. I feel... constrained. Heavy. My emotions are all over the place.
My mind and body feel unbalanced, and I am not sure what I can do to align them once more. I am not sure how to feel in touch with myself again.
Perhaps I will actually try this meditation thing. I have never been good at it - meditation tends to give me incredible headaches, which is strange. Perhaps I am just not trying hard enough.
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