Quiet

Over-sharing on the Internet is a funny thing. Sometimes it is great, we can read something and feel less alone, more understood, or we can read something and feel pulled into someone’s pain, when we don’t feel up to it. We spill our innermost thoughts and feelings onto the screen, but does it really help and is it fair to our readers, who may have just popped along for coziness and tales of small children?

But then again, a personal blog is not a magazine, it is a reflection of a person’s life, it goes hand in hand with whatever is going on and encompasses all the ups and downs of a life. For me, I find it hard to sound authentic or muster enthusiasm for writing here, if I am holding back. If I feel as if I am hiding something.

Things have been a little quiet around here lately for that very reason. I have been trying to keep quiet that just over a couple of weeks ago I found out I was pregnant and of course we all know you are not supposed to share this news in the early weeks. If I am honest, I am not really sure why. Any loss in the early weeks is still a loss that hurts and a life that was hoped for. I know very well that even if others don’t know, I do and the pain of a pregnancy loss is just as keen whether you have shared the news or not. So, who are we trying to protect? Ourselves or the people we would have told who wouldn’t know what to say and would shuffle their feet awkwardly.

This is all my rather clumsy way of getting around to my own over-share, as I had confirmed today that yet again, my pregnancy will be going no further. For the fourth time I have experienced that sinking feeling when you know it is over and once again you must pack up the hope and plans and start again. As a friend said, I only knew for two weeks, but without even knowing it, I had imagined a whole lifetime.

So, lovely readers, I share this with you in my space, my corner, not to ruin your day or make you feel bad, but simply because it is happening, it is now and it is me. It will change me in small ways, stay with me and become part of the fabric of my life. This blog records the fabric of my life and so it is right that it should be here, because that is how life is.

There will be tales of pretty crochet and crazy children to come. Of course there will, because that is also me, but for today, for this week, I am sad. My heart is a little broken and so is my body. They will both heal and repair, but perhaps with a tiny, imperceptible crack. You won’t be able to see it, my boys won’t be able to see it and most of the time I won’t even see it, but like a tiny freckle that fades in and out with the sun, sometimes it will be there.

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38 thoughts on “Quiet

  1. Been there and completely understand how you feel. Share as much or as little as you like. Sending you love from my corner of Surrey x

  2. Oh Emily, so so sorry that you and your family are suffering this again. I hope you are taking it easy and not in too much physical pain. Sending tea, toast and lots of Hugs

  3. Emily, I know I’ve not been around much, and so I’ve not been there to see the quiet. I am so sorry for this loss – and unfortunately not just this one. You have written so beautifully. I’m thinking of you xxx

  4. It breaks my heart to see you in pain. You are a very special person, with an amazing family and I wish more than anything that I could make it all better. I can’t do that, and that crack will always be there, but I will be able to see that tiny crack too because it’s a part of you now. It’s a tiny, almost imperceptical part of an amazing friend I hope will be part of my life for a very long time.x

  5. It breaks my heart to see you in pain. You are a very special person, with an amazing family and I wish more than anything that I could make it all better. I can’t do that, and that crack will always be there, but I will be able to see that tiny crack too because it’s a part of you now. It’s a tiny, almost imperceptical part of an amazing friend I hope will be part of my life for a very long time.x

  6. I’m so sorry, you are so incredibly brave for posting this (I’m so sorry if that sounds patronising!). I wrote similar things in August 11, October 11 and Jan 12 but was far too scared to press publish. This is just so well written and really hits home with me
    Sending you lots of love and strength, and hoping you feel a little less broken every day xxxx

    1. It’s not patronising at all and thank you. Jan ’12? And look now you have your beautiful baby girl. I can’t tell you how much comfort that gives me. Thank you.

  7. I’m so very sorry but I’m really glad you wrote this. It will definitely bring strength to others and I hope it brings some to you too xx

  8. I’m so sorry to read this. Like you I tend to be quiet if I feel like I need to hold back, it’s the honesty of your blog that makes it good to read. I hope you manage to rest when you need to and I know the emotional healing will come in time. Sending you love x

  9. Hello, I’ve just come across your blog after the MA RT this post, I don’t think we’ve crossed paths before, but we do have something in common, I too lost my pregnancy 5 weeks ago, I went very quiet in the Twitter/blogging world because through out my 11 weeks of pregnancy because it was difficult complicated and unknown if I would get to have it and I wanted to share but it was such an awful time it consumed my life that it was all I had to say and didn’t want to sound like a depressing broken record but when a missed miscarriage was finally confirmed and I had been through the loss it’s self I too felt it was time to share and I wrote about it on my blog, I wanted to just let almost 3months of craziness out, writing it all down was so therapeutic and I got some really lovely support from people in my online life, as you say it’s a reflection of our life isn’t and pretending its not happening just put extra pressure on you. I’m so sorry that you have had to go through this right now, I feel your pain, mine is still very raw and I’m sending you a hug and letting you know you’re not alone x x x

    1. Writing really is so therapeutic and your m/c sounds a lot like my second. There is an extra pain at seeing a baby still on the scan with no heartbeat. I’d love to read your blog, if you fancy posting a link.

  10. I am really sorry for your loss. I know how much your heart must be aching right now. This piece is beautifully written. I’ve given a lot of thought about the aspect of sharing such personal information via social media. I have only alluded to my six miscarriages since I was lucky enough to become a mum in September but I feel now is the time to out myself in the light of the Miscarriage Association campaign. We don’t know each other but you are in my thoughts.

  11. ”our sweetest songs are those that tell our saddest thoughts” – you write so beautifully and there’s healing in laying bear how you feel. By not putting up a wall around your loss and sadness you allow yourself the hope and joy of the baby that is yet to come and will carry to term. all good wishes to you and your boys and the future you wish for x

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