Not a 4th Miscarriage!!

Yesterday I called a nurse and explained that I was sure I had miscarried but felt nauseous and was in pain. They set up an appointment for an hour later, and I zipped on over. I was emotional and couldn't stop crying. I explained everything that had happened to the nurse, and by some miracle the ultrasound technician just happened to have an opening without a separate appointment. I went over to that room, and she was just looking for leftover tissue, but instead she found two large ovarian cysts and a little bubble. When she zoomed into the bubble it turned out to be a baby.

A baby.

A BABY! And its little heart was beating, and I cried, "It-it's alive?!" Then I started crying all over again. No one could really explain the bleeding from before. I was told it could be from the cervix, subchorionic bleeding, or I miscarried a twin. All I know is, there is a living being depending on me, and I'm going to do all I can to save it.

4 Miscarriages

I had my fourth miscarriage last night. I was over 7 weeks along when it happened. It was easier than the last one, but it's completely messing up my emotions. I keep trying to throw myself into my hobbies to keep afloat, but it's there with the emotional and physical pain, taunting me. 4 miscarriages. 4 miscarriages. 4 miscarriages.

My life is a mess, but it's easier to pretend it's fine and carry on when most people don't know about it. Ignorance is only bliss when the ignorant is unaware of their ignorance.

I feel...so much.

Aftermath of my 3rd miscarriage

I was nine weeks and two days along when I miscarried on Wednesday. The pain when it started was blinding, and the kids began running in my bathroom to the sounds of shrieks and screams I hadn't known I was capable of emitting.

My husband - who had been allowing me to awkwardly hold onto his hands - was probably relieved when my sister showed up uninvited. I was crying, she was crying, and my whole world was blood and tears. I was grateful for her presence (and presents...she got me chocolate, and lots of it.).

The whole gut-wrenching experience lasted five or six hours, and all these following days have been filled with recovery, well-wishes from intuitive friends, and meal after meal after meal.

After talking to a few people today about the experience I felt confused. I wondered why the only actual pain I'd felt was physical. I'd compared my suffering to having my insides digested by the Sarlacc from Return of the Jedi, but I'd only shed emotional tears for a grand total of thirty seconds. This baffled me, because my previous two miscarriages had wrecked me emotionally for days.

I'm an emotional person. I thrive on it. I soak it all in for better or worse, and it's made me a person full of passion and empathy and spirit. So when I was praying this afternoon, I gave God a piece of my mind. I told Him that it felt empty without any of the sadness I felt I deserved to experience. I said that I needed it to feel closure.

Then something very peculiar happened in my mind. I saw a literal image of floodgates being opened and vaguely felt the sensation of drowning. And a voice as clear as anything spoke into my mind, "You would not have been able to bear it."

...

Well, I'm humbled. Once again, my testimony that God has a vested interest in my livelihood is evident, and I'm...beyond eternally grateful for His love and wisdom.

The difference between pain and agony

Anything I've felt in the last two years is nothing compared to the highs and lows I've experienced in the past month and a half since I finished nursing my youngest. I shift from Euphoric to crazed hopelessness in seconds and then back to a manic stream of thoughts that leaves me unable to form coherent speech.

I...don't know what to do. The last three days have been so out of control that I have gone from feeling inundating happiness and love to not being able to feel love at all and honestly feeling like there was nothing to live for.

I don't feel comfortable disclosing what I tried to do during that time, but I do know
I need help.

I need help, and I don't know what to do.

I need help, and I don't where to begin.

What is my life worth when all I do is break my husband's heart with my unhinged mental state? What is my life worth when all my children see is a mother whose emotions deteriorate until I'm completely and mentally incapacitated?

The last several medications I tried just made things worse. Should I just go to a doctor anyway? Should I see my bishop? Should I go to counseling? Should I just get more sleep and take Fish oil pills??

If you read this and are someone who knows me, do NOT call me about it. I'm devastated and absolutely embarrassed that my bipolar disorder is getting so hard to deal with. The last thing I need is a well-meaning intervention/turned awkward phone call.

In fact don't even acknowledge that you read this. I'm mortified by the turn each of the last few days has taken. I cannot express properly how humiliated I am right now, and I would just appreciate prayers and anonymity. I just want everything to go away. I don't want to hurt anymore.

28!

In case you wondering...

I made it! I came. I saw. I conquered!

Afterthoughts:

I've debated with myself for sometime whether or not to share this blog publicly with my friends and extended family, especially with my in-laws who have given be cause both to love and cherish them and (on the flipside) to be wary of their gossip and judgmental tendencies.

Ultimately I have decided not to share it. Even some the select few people I have already told about this blog have shown that they can be closed-minded in painfully and surprisingly hypocritical ways. As I have no desire to subject myself to unnecessary anguish, I will steel the urge to share my triumph and settle for the selfish preservation of my social dignity...if I even have that.

For now I can only hope that people who could benefit from my experiences will find this blog by chance and that it will help them, somehow.


If I ever have another Major Depressive Episode I'll document it here. Until then, adieu.

-Cheryl a.k.a. Viola 

Well, what do you know...

In less than a week I'll be able to say I've broken the cycle.

Was it coincidence? Was it pregnancy and breastfeeding? Self awareness for my condition? Eating 3 eggs a day and cutting out dairy??

I don't care how it happened. It was a miracle, and grateful for it. If I never had another major depressive episode it would be too soon, and the fact that I have now gone almost 6 years without one is absolute proof of God's mercy.

I don't ever want to really be normal, per se...I love the insights that often come with bearing all of these oddities and quirks in my personality. But I do want to feel happy. I want to breathe in the air and taste the wonder of the earth, feel the rain on my face and sense the sun pushing against the clouds.

I've conquered 27. The rest of my life awaits.

Becoming Aware

There is at least one good thing that came from this blog.

Self-awareness.

I recognize the signs of my depressive episodes like the back of my hand. Yes, they still happen, but at least I know it'll end.