The New Normal

So, everything is as it should be, I suppose. I have grieved all I can grieve, made as much of a deal about it as I wanted to, and memorialized it how I wanted to. I have an amazingly supportive husband who may not understand why I've done these things, but respects my need to do them. People all around me have offered their shoulder to cry on, arms to hug, or ears to listen to my woes. There was even a day at work the management almost sent me home (which is one of those things that never happens unless you're throwing up exorcist style) because I was too sad to do my job. That's right, it was the two month anniversary of my miscarriage, I had just started my cycle (which meant no new baby) and I just couldn't help myself. I was crying.

At work.

I've never been a crying sort of person. In fact, I've looked down on those who were 'emotional idiots', crying at every little sentimental thing, because I felt they were out-of-control weak humans. Oddly enough, my husband is a very emotional person, but I could tolerate such a thing because I felt, in a way, that it balanced me. I could be the strong one, he could be misty eyed. That was okay. I used to cry on occasion, but always privately - in bed, in the shower, always at home, always alone. It was my sorrow and mine alone and I didn't need anyone else to bear it with me.

Perhaps this is one of those 'mother' things. My mother was very emotional, very sensitive, always thrusting her feelings out onto other people. Maybe I have always been a little sensitive myself and it bothered me to be in the constant bombardment of her emotions and drama. But I couldn't stand it. As I got older, I couldn't stand to cry. I wouldn't be like her, crying at every little thing, letting every tiny detail upset her, having huge issues of stress and anxiety. I would be strong. I would put up walls, I would deal with my emotions privately, I would smirk at the world and let it come. Darkness had already come and gone many times. There was no reason not to let it come again. I would stay strong. The walls had held through everything and they were still standing.

And then the pregnancy happened, the miscarriage happened, and all those beautiful fortifications were destroyed. At first, it seemed like it was the hormonal letdown that was causing me to weep at nothing and writhe in mental agony. It let up after awhile, to a certain extent, but I have found that this experience has had lasting effects that I am not pleased about.

I realize that when a woman becomes a mother, her body undergoes a profound physiological change. In most women, it's not just that your hips are bigger or that your breasts will never be the same. The brain seems to change as well, preparing the women to be a mother, causing the deep natural child-rearing instincts to come forth. Even though I have no research to back this up, I have seen it happen in so many people I can hardly deny the truth of it. It's like the programming of the brain is rewritten to turn the baby into the center of the universe, instead of the self. This is a necessary thing - our offspring are born helpless. If mothers weren't willing to kill for (and die for) their children, our species would have never survived.

My pregnancy never reached that point, but my body was still undergoing changes that have not reversed. My clothes fit differently around my hips, I noticed. I bought bigger bras and I can still wear them. It's harder for me to lose weight than it was previously. And all the walls came tumbling down.

The post-pregnancy hormones knocked the walls down, and as of yet I have no ability to build them back up. My emotions are raw and turbulent. I take things so personally. Every little thing bothers me. I can't deal with people, and I can't deal with stress. I feel like the Grinch when I say, "the noise, noise, noise", but it's true. I cry. I cried at work that day, in front of managers, co-workers and complete strangers. Things build up, and instead of me being able to sleep them off, or work them off, or (heaven forbid) eat something sweet to take the edge off, I cry. I completely shut down and I have to go and cry. I don't even know how to manage this. Other people who have always been more emotional might have some idea about it, and I'd love to hear it. Because I feel half-functional. This is the new normal, the new me that has emerged from the ashes, and I am sorely disappointed.

If my mother felt like this day in and day out, it's no wonder she lost her mind.