Saturday, January 14, 2012


Silence. That's what my home has been filled with. The phone hasn't rang since Wednesday and things have been quiet around here. What's been strange is that I really haven't pushed for more interaction with the world. I've preferred the silence, as it brings no reminders, no triggers. I've been living in a cocoon.

The problem is, I hate the fact I'm currently in this state. Yes, a lot of bad things have happened in the past couple of weeks; things I hope I never have to go through again. But I can't stay in this state. Life is too short and I made a promise to Grey that infertility wasn't going to break us. To wallow means the bitch wins.

There have been some good signs suggesting that I'm beginning to emerge from my cocoon. The cramping from the D&C has begun to subside and my body feels stronger. I'm dreaming again too. A good sign that my soul is finally beginning to heal. My need for sleep is decreasing and my energy level, though still low, is beginning to rise. The thing is, to continue the healing process, I need to start taking steps to promote healing. And this is a problem because a very lazy part of myself doesn't want to leave the comfort of the cocoon. It's like trying to get out of bed early on a cold winter morning: the first step of getting out from under the covers is always the hardest. Yet, I know if I don't start, the wounds will never truly heal.

Over the years, Grey and I have found that following trauma, a retreat to a safe haven has been critical for allowing the healing process to advance. During summers while we were both in graduate school, hikes into the mountains or camping was an easy solution to reconnect and feel rejuvenated following failed experiments or bad work weeks. But for more serious traumas, we've retreated to the ocean. Wandering through the mists that engulf the shore and the constant lower roar of the waves helps me find my footing and forces a sense of calm on my heart. It's spiritual in a way. Almost like being reborn.

Tonight, we will journey to our special place. The skies are threatening snow, yet we will chance the weather in an effort to advance this process. I have a few things that need to be finalized before we leave, but with luck we should be able to begin our journey before the weather turns nasty.


  1. That sounds like a fabulous idea. I should try to take some time off for the ocean too. I can get there in 3 hours.
    I hope you find what you are looking for and can begin finding your feet again.
    We'll be here.

  2. You so eloquently describe what you're in need of. Understanding what is best for you and Grey is essential. Do whatever you can to relax, re-coop and simply enjoy each others company. Let the wind blow through and clear your mind and heal your soul. This is a process, but I think you describe some good steps to stay on the right track. xoxo

  3. Sending you healing thoughts on your journey to the ocean. I've spent some great times there and also some heavy times with a lot of soul searching. I truly miss the ocean, as it is like no other place on earth. Peace be with you.

  4. Water is wonderful for the soul. I hope you enjoy it, or it at least brings you some calm and peace.

  5. Sounds like a wonderful idea. Finding time to get away and just be together is precious and will form new memories hopefully ones to help heal.

  6. This sounds wonderful. It is a process and being in the cocoon is a great place to start, but like you said, you can't stay there forever. Thinking of you!

  7. Hi Cristy, I know I already commented but just a little note to let you know you've been on my mind all morning. I wish I had some great words of wisdom or a manual on how to get through all of this. Its quite possibly the worst feeling in the world and its gut wrenching and scary. Just know that there are a lot of us out here sending prayers and hugs your way. We're here when you need us. xoxo

  8. I hope the weather held out for you and you were able to spend some time on the beach. I love your description of your cocoon and relate to how hard it can be to step out of it. I think when you're grieving it's easy to feel guilty about things, like hibernating away from the rest of the world, but try to go easy on yourself and take your time.


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