Friends are funny, funny people. At least that’s what I think anyhow.
My most dear friends, MM, has been wonderful. Not pushing, not prying, but she’s just there, supporting me when I need her.
But others… others ran away. Pretended nothing happened. Some never even asked ‘hey, how’re you?’. Even when I first started to come back to ‘life’ after loosing my little walnut. Nothing was said. Nothing is being said. Pretending it never happened, pretending I’m still the same must be easier for people.
I don’t want attention, but you know, sometimes a kind word really does help. Sometimes all I need to hear is just a sliver of compassion to put myself back together. The hurt, it’s so raw, so utterly painful. No booklets, no handouts, no doctors or nurses ever mentioned the sheer pain of miscarriage. The ache is right there, right under the surface. All it takes is a small scratch to open up the wound. I try to bandage up that wound before it open up. I don’t know if I can cope with it otherwise. I cannot describe the pain. It’s the sheer weight on your heart and soul. You can’t take a breath, that’s how much it hurts.
All I want sometimes is just a word, a gesture, a hug.
I like silence now. I get tired pretending I’m ok. That’s what people want to see and kind of expect to see. Its been a month now. One whole month. We survived, minus a few friends. I’m still broken. I’m still hurting. I just want human contact. I’m not contagious.
I’m not the same as I was a month ago. I changed and grew and grieved like never before. I just want people to know that I’m still here. I still want their contact… but it’s probably too much for some.