Intimacy

Earlier this morning my husband and I had made plans to be intimate with one another later on in the evening.  Since the miscarriage we had to practice abstinence until my body healed and although we have been together a couple times since the traumatic event, to me it is still new, cautious and emotional.  It is because of all of these things that I was looking forward to our encounter so much.  So when evening rolled around and my husband was too tired and emotionally drained, I was frustrated.  He could sense my change in mood and apologized for making me angry.  I let him know I wasn’t angry, I was disappointed.  I could tell my husband was flustered with my strong reverie of solitude and he tried to offer me intimacy through cuddling.  I knew he was trying to reach out to me, but this only further my aggravation, which made me question why I was feeling so rejected and hurt.

For those who don’t know, seven years ago I broke my back and due to this injury I now have four pounds of metal in my spine that still causes me great pain and even limits some of my activities.  Due to this handicap along with my PCOS and other small ailments I already feel broken. And then, the miscarriage.  I realized I was feeling as if my body was essentially out if order and I needed it to have a purpose since it already can’t do so many things.  Since I am having such a hard time loving my extra supple rolls and super tender breast, I needed someone else to love them.  Since my body is no longer carrying our child I wanted it to have a purpose, even if that purpose was pleasuring my husband.  Of course as I worked all this out in my mind I realized that these were real and genuine emotions, but the thought process and ensuing actions were uncharacteristic and somewhat juvenile. 

After talking through these emotions with Josh I cried because even in the simple act of being okay with myself, I find the hurting emotions of the miscarriage creeping into my perception.  Despite trying to work through every thought, every hormonal, emotional outburst, I still feel as if I am pregnant, or should be.  How can I deal with this loss when my body thinks I delivered a baby?  My breast are engorged and aching even a month later and my hormones are all over the place because they think I should be breast feeding and I hate that every morning when I get dressed how it reminds me that the now sagging belly is empty and that the engorged breasts are full of milk that will never be drunk and once again I am longing to have my body be part of a different purpose.  Time.  I know.  Time will ease all wounds both the physical changes as well as the emotional ones:

Bleed me a river;

              my heart bleeds in song.

Bleed me a river

              because I’ve been hurting for so long.

Bleed me a river.

Bleed me along.

Bleed me a river,

              until I can sail on.

Something I wrote earlier today as I contemplated on some of these emotions.