Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Blame it on the Pain

Though I can't say keeping up the blog has ever been easy, there was a time when it was at least routine. Even before horrible circumstance knocked the wind and creativity out of me, I must admit I'd slipped a long way from where I once was, back before the first of my losses occurred. And once the second loss happened- well, I didn't even have a routine to fall back to.

I'm not sure how to pick up the pieces now, or how much I really even want to. Since the blog's inception I've never had the freedom to carve out a space of time outside the quiet hours of evening, and lately I've been wanting to fill more of those hours spending actual time with my husband, who has helped so much to carry me through all of the ugly stuff of late.

If there were ever a time to try to pick back up again somewhat, however, it's now. Though the grief will ever be with me, I can finally close the chapter on "What Ifs"- those that can actually be answered, anyway.

I don't know the official term, if there is one. I never got the benefit of a phone call or actual explanation, just a brief and technical email.

"Dear Sharon," it began, and that was about as personal as it got.

"Your miscarriage chromosome study is back. The tissue had 47, XX, +15, this is an extra chromosome #15 seen in 7% of miscarriages. No intervention is indicated at this time, especially with three normal pregnancies in the past."

So, Trisomy 15 perhaps (is that a thing)? A Google search illuminated for me that of the chromosomes that sometimes go wrong, this is one that does not generally allow for compatibility with life. Most instances of it lead to loss in the first trimester. Most of the information that I found, however, concerned the condition that it causes in live births, which appears to be rare. Rare, but still common enough to not quite quiet the voice inside of me that has been trying to place the blame for this loss squarely on me.

To be fair, even Tetraploidy (which caused the passing of Chickpea) can cause live births on occasion, though only one case that I read about lived past one year. I haven't spent a great deal of time blaming myself about the loss of her. However, Chickpea never made it far enough to show us her heart. Jellybean? Well, we had a bit more time to hope for her, however much I feared too greatly to ever really give her my own heart in return.

We've chosen our names and our forms of remembrance. We've said our prayers. We've cried our tears. But the pain still lingers, and always will. Temporarily conquering it seems not to matter; I know by now that just when I think it behind me it will crop up unawares and grip me near as tightly as it did that first time it struck.

All the more reason, I suppose, to focus more fervently on the present and not linger so stubbornly (as I am prone to do) in the past. But like many things, easier said- or written- than done.

If only writing could make it so. If only writing felt more attainable a task to accomplish just yet. If wishes were horses, right? If blogging could make it right... but it cannot.

Still, I hope to make this back into my little space again. Someday.