Experiencing a miscarriage was the easy part.
Now there’s a phrase that I never thought I would say or feel through my experience with miscarriages and secondary infertility, but it’s the truth.
When you experience trauma, your body goes on autopilot mode. Something inside of you shuts down, but your body continues taking its next steps. You thank the doctors for their help, you smile at your friends when they drop off a meal, and you delete the baby app before it reminds you of your babies next milestone.
Autopilot switches off, and suddenly you feel like you're about to crash your plane into this mountain of hurt that you didn’t know was living inside of you.
So yes, the beginning was the easy part for me. The initial loss broke my heart in ways that I had never known possible, but I had my autopilot mode on. And now that it's off, I feel like my toddler did when he was learning how to walk for the first time. Uncertain and a little scared. A lot scared.
What am I supposed to be doing? What am I supposed to be saying? What’s next? Where am I going from here?
I wish that’s where the sinkhole stopped, but if I allowed it, I’d continue to sink deeper.
People are going to judge me for trying again. I’ve already been told secondary infertility isn’t a real thing. I have kids, so I just need to be happy. “Ashleigh should just stop for right now until the doctors know what is wrong with her.”
And so I sink. Deeper and deeper and deeper.
Why am I publicly posting this? Because I think it's essential. I think it's okay to believe in God’s goodness and will for your life but still admit that it hurts. I think it's necessary to have peace with your outcome but still mourn a loss.
Most importantly, though...
Advice is welcomed, opinions are expected, but my choices are my own, and they are not for anyone to decide for me.
So that’s a lesson that I’m learning: to be confident in the choices I make and close the gate to unwelcomed visitors, whether that be an unnecessary opinion or a fearful thought that works its way into my head and heart.
I’m continuing to learn how to fly this plane, but every now and again I think autopilot is necessary.
A special friend reminded me of a little piece of wisdom today.