By Megan Cardwell
Why me?
Why again?
What did I do wrong? Was it because I painted the door? Was it because I lugged the 40lb bag of dog food? Is it because I used chemicals to clean the grout? Was it the run I went for? Is it because I opted for a second cup of coffee because I was feeling especially tired? Or, is it just me? Am I broken? Did I do this?
Why did this happen again?
When will I stop hurting?
When will I stop bleeding?
Why can’t I stop crying?
Is there a chance this isn’t what’s happening? Could my doctors be wrong?
Why do I still hope I’m pregnant? Why do I hope the doctors got it wrong? Why do I want the blood to be from internal bleeding or a nicked artery? Why would it be easier to accept the idea that I’m bleeding out than the fact that I’m bleeding out my baby?
Why am I bleeding out my baby?
Why won’t I stop bleeding?
Is it horrible that I just want to forget?
Why am I numb? Why can’t I cry?
Do I tell people? Or do I carry this weight alone? If I tell people, will they look at me with eyes that match exactly how I feel? Broken?
Am I broken? Did I do this?
Why does everyone ignore it?
Why does everyone seem to need something from me? Why do so many people need a piece of me? Do I even have any pieces left to give? Will there be any pieces leftover for me?
Why am I ashamed? Why am I embarrassed? Why do I get anxious at the thought of admitting to anyone else that I am miscarrying? Have I even admitted it to myself yet?
Why do I feel so alone?
Why am I so angry?
How is this fair?
Why do I have to put on a brave face for everyone else? Why am I inclined to hide my hurt? Why does even the word ‘miscarriage’ make everyone else so damn uncomfortable? Why am I mad that anyone else gets to feel uncomfortable when I’m the one forcing a baby out of my body?
Why did this happen again? Did you not hear my prayers? Did you not hear me, ever day, telling you to please hold on? Did I not give you enough to hold on?
When will my heart not feel so shattered?
When will things start to feel normal again? Do I want things to feel normal again? If things are normal, does that make me a horrible person? For moving on? Does it do you justice?
Why can’t I seem to shake the cloud hanging over my heart?
Why does it feel like everybody and their brother wants to know how I’m doing lately? Do they know? Can they see it written across my forehead? And what now? Do I tell them how I am? Or keep it hidden because they’re strangers? Should I lie? I should tell them I’m, “good, how about you?”, right?
Do they care? Does anyone actually care?
Am I terrible person for having a good day? Am I a terrible mother for forgetting this happened, for split second?
Should I even be allowed to smile? Does it mean I’m forgetting you?
Why do I feel so guilty? Why do I feel so responsible? Am I responsible?
Will this happen again? Will I make it through if it does?
Why can’t I seem to push the dark thoughts away?
Why can’t I stop thinking about this all day, every day? Is there ever a time where it won’t be so all-consuming? Why do I feel so damn heavy all the time?
Will I ever be whole again?
Why does the world just get to keep turning as if nothing happened at all? Why does the world get to forget you?
Why can’t I curl up and tune everyone out?
When will I stop hurting?
Why did this happen again?
Comments