Broke but not broken

I should be at a wedding right now but instead I’m in my pyjamas.

Before I get into that I first want to thank you everyone for your incredible words of support, kindness, compassion, empathy and love over the past few weeks. I can’t tell you how much reading your comments and tweets has helped me get through this incredibly dark time. I feel lighter, stronger every time I read them. This community has become my family, and I am so so thankful.

Such extreme emotions this past week. At home I’m so low – sobbing, throwing things, dry heaving, fits of sleep-crying. At work I fake being up – performing, looking energetic, pretending things are great. No one knows I’m bleeding, cramping, passing what was meant to be our baby.

As soon as I leave the office the tears begin to flow. But while I sat at my clinic hooked up to an Intralipids drip this morning, I realised as sad as I am right now, I’m not ready to give up this fight. I am feeling more determined than ever to carry on.

I don’t want a break. Crazy as it sounds, I want to keep going right now. Can grief and hope coexist? I want to think so. I promise myself to allow the grief to continue to release itself but if I crave hope then I will embrace it too.

I want this to work but it won’t work unless we try. So I’m getting back on the treatment plan, forking out the exorbitant funds in hopes we get to one day live the dream. In hopes of catching that one good egg. All we need is one. Just one, that’s all we ask. And ok maybe a cooperative womb too. But that’s it. Consider it my Christmas list.

Soon a new plan will be implemented. Don’t know what it is yet but at least we thinking about it.

I don’t know what has brought on this new determination, this fight. Maybe it’s desperation. Maybe you caught me in a good moment. Maybe it’s all the supportive comments from you lovelies, maybe it was the three therapy sessions I attended this week, or the acupuncture, floatation, who knows. Maybe it was that this one was so young, so new, that I’m able to bounce back a bit quicker this time. Maybe it’s the gravity of the situation, making me realise it’s all or nothing now. Maybe all of the above. But one thing is for sure: this isn’t over yet.

And although I should be at a friends’ wedding right now, I knew there was no way to face it. I couldn’t face celebration, the sweet pea thief, the carefree guests having fun, the inquisitive looks from friends.

Obligation. I’m am so through with it.

Instead the pjs are on, the fire is roaring and the kitty, tea and fluffy blankets await. Fuck the housework, the dishes, the laundry, the obligation. I do not care.

But I do care that there’s been a lot of sadness and pain out there in cyberspace in recent days and it breaks my heart. So I am sending love and warmth to all of you right now, you the glittering stars in my night sky xx


41 thoughts on “Broke but not broken

  1. I’ve been thinking about you lots, Lisette, and praying tons, hoping you would resurface soon. I definitely think grief can exist at the same time as hope. Sometimes they take turns on who is strongest on any day, but I am so glad to hear that hope is giving grief a fight.

    I so admire your strength in this. I don’t know if I could bounce back as quickly as you did. Takes amazing grit and determination. But I am glad you are doing what feels good and true and right to you. And I am SO glad you are at home, in your pjs and NOT at that wedding.

    I’m praying that everything you have to ‘fake’ at work (ugh, that sucks! I know how that feels) will become your reality really, really soon.

    Thinking of you as your plan emerges. We are with you in this, girl. xo

    • Thank you Kate! It feels so good to read your note, I like that way you say that grief and hope take turns. It definitely feels that way. Thank you so much for your incredible support. I am feel so lifted up by you and the others. Thinking of you all the time xx

  2. Thank you for sharing your words of encouragement. After our last loss this past summer, I told my husband I was done. Done trying, done losing, done hurting. Recently, I’ve started to have thoughts to the contrary, thinking maybe we should try again. Then I always find a way of reminding myself why I said “no more” in the first place. Your words help me remind myself why I should keep fighting.

    • Your story is truly heartbreaking and I can completely understand why you feel the way you do. Interestingly hope has a way of peaking out when we least expect it. I wish you peace in whatever path you take, thank you so much for the support xx

  3. I’m so sorry for your grief, but in awe of our optimism. Hang in there as long as you need to. Best wishes to you and hubby as you walk down this crooked path. You deserve all the time you need and the dishes will wait. Lots of love coming your way dear.

  4. Fuck the housework and obligations – you take care of yourself right now, and if that means PJ’s and Kitty I think that is perfect. I love that you are fighting your way out, your strength is amazing. Thinking of you and sending fighting energy and love your way.

  5. I’m glad that you are able to find hope and ignore the feeling of obligation. The most important thing is looking after yourself, the laundry, dishes and friends’ weddings are unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I hope you find that with time the post work tears start to subside and the hope starts to shine brighter x

  6. Sorry I haven’t been around. I have not been updating my own blog much, so I keep forgetting to check others. Life sucks ass, and you have somehow managed to find a reason to keep going, so you’re like an infertile superwoman.

  7. This post is beautiful, it just shows how you find hope and strength again even when you least expect it. It made me want to hope and try more myself. Thanks! I’m glad you want to continue and really hope that you’ll soon have your happy ending. xxx

  8. Hi, there! I noticed you started following my blog so I popped over to check out yours and begin following! RPL is so tough and heartbreaking. I’m sorry that you’re losing yet another sweet baby. Don’t give up hope, friend!

  9. Hello,
    I found your blog while researching this subject, desperate for information.
    I am going through the same experience as you at the moment. We just lost the third pregnancy – we had to make the decision to terminate at 16 weeks due to our little boy having triploidy. He would not have lived past birth. I had an operation a week ago.
    I am suffered three previous consecutive miscarriages this year, and we have no children. I’m 37.
    If you are able, I would love to talk to you about how you are battling this; the tests you are asking for, specialists etc etc.
    I am in a haze of bewilderment right now; veering between distraught, suicidal, angry, despairing, bitter, or just simply apathetic and unable to get out of bed. I have to put on a mask at work, while inside I am broken. I am trying to be practical and look at solutions, but sometimes I just feel so hopeless.
    If you feel able to contact me, and want to, please do. It is really hard to find people going through this.
    Best wishes xx

    • I am so sorry for the late reply and for all this pain you are enduring. It is truly horrible. We have a lot of similarities. I too had a triploid loss earlier this year, also a boy, at 10 weeks. It broke my heart. I understand all your feelings of rage and depression and despair, of being completely broken. I’d be happy to talk anytime. If you like feel free to email me and we can take it from there. Sending you love and strength and hugs xx

  10. Hey girl. I took an internet holiday and also took a holiday from reflection, so have been MIA in general, cleaning and organizing my apartment like an automaton….I am glad to get back on here and hear you sounding hopeful, even if it was only for a day, an hour, a moment, or if it was for a week! You wrote: “Can grief and hope coexist? I want to think so. I promise myself to allow the grief to continue to release itself but if I crave hope then I will embrace it too.”—I think when we get in the habit of blogging often we catch ourselves in these in-between moments, where grief and hope do actually coexist.

    Sometimes I have gotten directive comments on my blog, telling me to allow grief to run its course before I think of next steps—no reason for that. You can think of next steps as soon as you want to. You can feel hope today, and you can go back to grief whenever you want to, too. Or you can hold both at once. Anything goes, anything is acceptable. It’s an up and down that eventually evens out.

    I’m glad you are not giving up! I’m not giving up yet either (although there are some kind of indescribable changes going on that are hard for me to understand).

    With you always. I’m curious to hear your new plan when you are ready. XO

    • Oh lovely it’s so nice to hear from you. Thank you so much for your beautiful note, for making it ok to allow grief and hope to carry on together. I feel that way too, it feels right. I’ll take things as they come I guess, it’s all we can do. I’m thinking about you all the time, sending you my constant love xx

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