Whilst I'm still quietly sober, I'm staring into the abyss of those tumbled emotions.
I need accountability. I need to stand up and say, I think I'm teetering on a blow out. Epic, wanted, but so unwise. So not the solution. I'm grieving, I'm in pain and I'm empty.
I'd been counting the days down to tell you all we had a happy sober accident, found ourselves miraculously pregnant. So unexpected. My prudent self was quietly ticking off the days until 12 weeks and another healthy scan to confirm this baby was a keeper. We had an early scan and saw a healthy little heart beat and did a wee quiet dance. Prudent mind, early days. We've been here so many times before. Whilst I've live children, my husband has none.
A word hardly whispered in some corners, we, our family have been victims of miscarriages. A series of cruel, even if a necessary biological event. The first pregnancy with this husband, I didn't stop drinking to try and conceive, so strong was my urge to drink. But around the 5-6 weeks when I found out I was pregnant, each time, I did stop for a while. They unfortunately didn't make it. I blamed my drinking but it didn't stop me. I didn't get healthier, I just drank more. After the third miscarriage, my drinking was almost crazed, my crutch.
I saw no point in stopping drinking during the 4th or 5th pregnancy event. Although I moderated to one or two drinks a
Day only. Yes that's shocking, but so is that voice who creeps and whispers about how futile this all is, as it will end in disaster. I know now that's Wolfie. Shouting out my failures, kicking around my fears and my heart.
So this time, unexpectedly pregnant, sober, healthy, happy, I hoped for a better outcome. Sadly not. The poor wee
Soul who's heart seemed so strong left us at ten weeks, same as previous attempts.
Having been sober for over
6 months now, I can let go of all the shame of blaming myself. I'm as healthy as I could have been and still the same result. My fears that my actions lead to this sad path are unfounded. For once
I have taken the very best care of us both.
Wolfie hasn't stopped for a second.
Drink he told me, the baby is dead anyway. He's cruel.
My hand on my heart I ignored Wolfie every single day and his despicable words and taunts. I did my sober best. I stayed strong.
So here I am. Teetering. When I came home from the hospital yesterday we ritualistically went for after miscarriage 'comfort food' usually that's my excuse to buy booze and drown my sorrows deeply. But as much as I thought grab the wine, I grabbed the alcohol free version. I have prescribed
Painkillers which ironically I don't like as they make me feel spaced, they'd be much worse with booze.
I don't want to go back there. I'm
Going to try and blog everyday for a while. I'm off work. I'm sore and I'm dark.
Whilst I know it's nothing that could have been prevented, it's for the best for the developing baby, you can imagine what Wolfie is telling me. Although I know it's not my fault.
Whilst motherhood is something that makes me soar like a bird, this side of life breaks my soul. My husbands poor heart is so broken again. We had such hope this time, even if the news of a potential child, was unexpected. We tried to temper our joy with practical thoughts
And assure ourselves
That what would be would be.
It was so welcomed. That little life. It left just too early.
After getting home from the hospital again today, I immerse in much needed sleep, He immerses in his music.
Not a very positive post from me.
Life sometimes throws rocks at you. But, if I step off into the abyss, I know I'll regret it.
So here I am. Sad and broken. Full of guilt and sadness for my husband, the father for the briefest turn again. Full of sadness for the new family I'd tried not to dare too much for.
Drinking would numb it all for an hour or so. Put me back on that spiral of self loathing and regret.
I don't want to walk that path again. But I'm scared. I can't even remember what sober day I am. I must check. Must focus on sober and healing.
Speak tomorrow my friends.
I'm sorry for this post I'd hoped never to write it.