I’ve been telling this story one little piece at a time. If you have
missed some and want to catch up, go to http://mirzukfitness.com/blog/
At this point, I have just had a miscarriage (no, not yesterday- in Feb 2010.
It took me two and a half years to get up the courage to share!). We
hear about it all the time, that it is common for a woman to have a miscarriage.
That’s all fine and good, but when it comes down to the actual experience, it is
pretty brutal. I said it in the last post, and I’ll say it in this one. If you’ve had this
experience and felt isolated and alone, let me assure you that you are NOT! So many
people are coming out of the woodwork, sharing their stories and showing support
for one another. It definitely helps to tell your story to someone who cares and wants
to help you.
So where was I after the miscarriage? Well, sort of hopeless, to be honest. I was 37
years old and felt like I had blown my chance at having children. ‘Wasted time’ until
it was too late and then somehow messed up my pregnancy.
The truth is, I will never know what caused the miscarriage. At the time, I was certain
it was something I had done. Like drank too much coffee or been around people
smoking or used bleach to clean. All kinds of things in my head. Now, if I must
guess why it happened I would say that either the sperm or the egg were faulty
because of age or whatever, and that it could not survive and aborted itself. There’s
no way to know for sure.
Women who have been through this do tend to blame themselves. Let me tell you
that this accomplishes nothing after the fact. You will never know why, and it helps
NO ONE (least of all you!) for you to beat yourself up.
The belief I adopted was probably the healthiest one I could have come up with. Feel
free to borrow it.
To be honest, after this experience, I couldn’t really think about trying again. I was still
emotionally raw and needed time to heal. The Dr said I needed to heal physically as well.
Of course, I felt like I was out of time, but I also couldn’t even go there. I was glad
the Dr enforced not trying for 3 months. I needed a break and was happy to be told to take one.
When the 3 months of mental & physical healing were up, we were able to start trying
naturally again. This time coincided with my 38th birthday and I started to freak out again.
Feeling like I was running out of time and trying to make it work!
Several months passed and nothing happened. Every month when I got my period I would cry
or get super cranky.
Eventually, we both came to the conclusion that this was not going to happen naturally.
I started to open my mind a bit and think that maybe it WAS possible for me
to have a child, but just with a little help. I remembered still very well what the IUI
treatment had cost me back in 09, and how it forced me to move out of my home to pay
off that bill. I didn’t think IUI would work again, but we started to talk about IVF, which
is a MUCH more substantial bill than IUI. How the hell would we pull it off?
Ron told me to start looking into it, and the whole process and cost intimidated me
so I kept putting it off. Then, something unexpected happened. Ron dumped me. It
was September 2010 and he dumped me on my ass. I became depressed and lost a
bunch of weight and started smoking cigarettes when I walked the dog. (She gave me
dirty looks, as if to say “Do what you want with your body but don’t breathe that stuff
on me!”) Don’t ask me how that helps depression, but for some reason I felt like I needed it.
Would poor nutrition and smoking help me have a child? Nope. But I just lost the Daddy anyway,
so what the hell did I care? That’s the thing, I didn’t care.
Then I got my butt kicked even more. In October I got a call from one of my sisters
that my father had fallen off the deck at our home in Virginia and it looked like
he had broken his neck. He was alive, and at the hospital. I stayed put in NY,
waiting to hear news from the doc. I ran around the reservoir, smoked cigarettes,
and cried. He underwent tests all day- the usual stuff: x-rays, mri, cat scan
and at the end of the day they had him in surgery to replace some of the bones in
his neck. Holy shit! But he was alive and things seemed under control.
Not long after that, did I have another mental shift. Life is short and precious.
If I truly wanted to have a child, then I’d have to stop feeling sorry for myself and
doing bad things to my body. It was time to figure it out, man or no man. So, I got into ‘figure it
out’ mode and got myself healthy again. Now to decide what the next step would be…
How the hell was I going to pull this off by myself?
Until next time- remember LIFE IS SHORT AND PRECIOUS!! Love your
family and your friends and don’t hesitate to go for the things you want
out of life!!
Your Fitness Coach (who does NOT smoke!)