Tuesday, April 3, 2012


Meet Polaris

I found the pattern for him last August and immediately had to make him, knitting him within 5 hours. Polaris was meant to be a sign of hope, a gift for my child. I believed in the hope he symbolized so much that I pulled him out of the hope chest at the beginning of this FET cycle as a promise to my embies.

On Sunday, following the news that I had miscarried, I picked Polaris up and crawled into bed, holding him close. On my first day back to work, Polaris was stashed away in my purse, coming out during the moments I couldn't hold my sorrow back. This toy that was meant for my child has become my security blanket, helping me deal with this loss.

The past couple of days have been a struggle. Tears have appeared for no reason and I've found there are moments where I am overcome with sadness. Monday was spent crying in the library while trying to finish grading and waiting for car repairs to be completed. Today I hid out in my office until I needed to teach, hoping to prevent others from seeing my grief. What got me through the day was having moments to hold Polaris, allowing me to remember that they did exist.

The wound created from this miscarriage is larger than anticipated. Deeper too. I'm struggling with daily dealings, trying to find as much distraction to prevent the tears. That's been the easy part.

The hard part has come with fighting the bitterness that wants to seep in. It would be so easy to give in and hate anyone who is able to produce children without a second thought when I so desperately want to hold mine. To give into despair, giving up on life all together. I find during rough moments that I have to consciously stop the unhealthy dialogues that run through my head. If not for myself, then for the ones I lost. Polaris helps remind me of that.

The reality is, I'm raw. Very raw. Grey is too. He's trying hard to hide all of this with humor and hope. But we are forever changed by this. By this whole journey.

My new challenge is moving forward as planned. Though I'm determined to be the person my children would want me to be, I'm finding that I'm feeling very alone. Grey's mother is coming out to spend the weekend with us, but the rest of the family has been silent. And, honestly, I'm hurt by this. I'm sure there are a million explanations for why, but I really can't think of one that doesn't minimize this loss. Which only makes it harder to not go to those dark places.

The only thing that helps reset all of it is sleep. And holding Polaris. Both acts help shut off my brain, living in a state of not thinking, just observing.

Three more days until we see Dr. Optimism. Of living in a state of denial and shock. All the while clinching to hope in the form of an unusual teddy bear.


  1. Sweetie, this just sucks. I know those silent tears and how you try with all your might to hide them from the world. To stay strong. I am glad you have your bear. I think it's amazing that you MADE him! I confess that I too sleep my my twin bears on occasion. When my nights are unusually hard, I pull them into bed with me and find it easier to sleep.
    I wish it were easier for people to support those going through this kind of loss. For whatever reason, most do NOT deal with grief well...especially when it's not their own. I'm not sure why it's so hard for people.

    I think about you every day and keep whispering to M & A to send you as many rainbows as they can. I hope you are seeing them too.

    Call me or text ANY TIME of day or night. I am here and I understand.

  2. My heart is breaking for you. These words pull me right back to the days that tears were my default. It is so excruciatingly painful. And I'm so pissed that you're here again. So unbelievably pissed.

  3. Oh Cristy, I'm so sad for you. I know you're trying to be strong, and in many ways you're just in survival mode, but try to give yourself time and space to feel this. Know that everything you're feeling is okay. Even the bitter parts and the angry parts are okay, they have important things they need to say too. And listening to them for awhile doesn't mean they're taking over.

    I know exactly the raw feeling you describe. I've written about it myself. "Scratch the surface and I'll bleed." I'm here for you if you need to talk, or just need someone to listen. Even to the bitter parts.

  4. Christy I think Polaris was a wonderful idea and I am happy that he is some comfort in a terrible situation. Please know that this whole community is here for you and holding you in our hearts.

  5. Polaris is adorable. I have a stuffed seal that I got when I was 8 years old. After my miscarriage I spent all the time in bed I could just snuggled with him. You do what you have to do to get through it.

    I hope that Dr Optimism can give you some answers. I'm thinking of you.

  6. I'm sorry that your family has been largely silent. It may be something as benign as them not knowing what to say, but even if they just said THAT, it would at least be an acknowledgement of your loss.

    Hold tight to Polaris and take extra special care of yourself. *hugs*

  7. I think people tend to believe that by not reaching out, they are helping you not think about what has happened. Avoidance. But they don't know. They don't know that your mind won't allow you to think of anything else and that having people support you, and talk about it, is what you need most. I don't think they realize that their silence is so hurtful. We get it though. And we are here anytime of day or night.

    1. I completely agree. After our loss my parents admitted this exact same thing. But we told them numerous times that even if they don't bring it up it doesn't mean we're not thinking about it. People don't understand that though.

  8. I can only imagine how much pain you're in right now, and I hope you can hold on tight to whatever gives you comfort and eases that pain. (I love Polaris. I love that you have something physical to hold on to.) That you are getting up every day and going to work shows just how strong you are. Take care Cristy. I am thinking of you.

  9. I'm so sorry for your hurting. Just reading your post makes me hurt too.

    I can only think that your family doesn't know what to say, therefore they say nothing. I know it is hurtful. Maybe you can write a quick and short email letting them know you are hurting and could use some support and offer to them what would help you, even if it is only saying something small.

    *big hugs*

  10. It's a security blanket and a physical reminder of your baby who is loved so much. I'm so glad you have Polaris to help you get through this devastating time. Take good care of yourselves and know that we are all thinking of you. *Gentle hugs*

  11. Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. I remember the pain, and I know there is nothing anyone can do to make it less. It's just so so hard. I cried on my drive home from work every day for a month. I wanted to crawl into bed and never come out. And I think that is all good and healthy, and lets your body, and more importantly your soul, have the time it needs to heal. Somehow you will find the strength you need to move on. Just take your time. We're all here if you need anything.

  12. I love Polaris. What an awesome way to get some comfort. This is not the same thing but when I had zero fert I felt feelings I hadn't felt since my miscarriage in 2010. I was so, so upset - lots of tears, yelling, etc. When my family (even my mother and sister) didn't pick up the phone to call me, I was irate. I finally (after about a week of silence) emailed my mother to tell her how much worse it made my pain, to not have my mom call to comfort me. We ended up discussing it on the phone a day or two later...she really thought she was doing the right thing. Just goes to show, people don't get it and don't know how to deal with it.

    Please hit me up anytime you want to talk. xoxoxo

  13. I'm so sorry that you're going through this... and admire you so much for the warmth and grace that you show during such a difficult time. It is so hard to 'fight the bitterness that wants to seep in'... but without bitterness, it makes the pain more bearable. Polaris is adorable and a lovely comfort. Love to you always xoxo

    PS. I've taken my blog public again today... so it will be much easier to follow from now on :)) xoxo

  14. Hey. Just thinking about you today and wishing I could do more than that. Hoping you are finding comfort and that you know you are not alone.

  15. Hey. Just thinking about you today and wishing I could do more. Hoping you are finding some comfort and that you know you are not alone.

  16. I am holding you in my heart.

  17. Cristy, thinking about you and sending comfort.

  18. Oh my goodness, Polaris is such a sweetie. I'm so glad he's giving you some comfort. I've been thinking about you and like other commenters said, am so angry and upset that this is happening to you again.

    Maybe instead of having your family help you through this, you can rely on some friends. I'm here for you if you want to talk, cry, whatever (detourtomotherhood at gmail dot com). After my losses, I wanted to just talk to people who would let me talk and not change the topic. Sending you a big hug.

  19. Thinking of you today, wishing there was something we could say to ease your pain xoxo

  20. So glad you have Polaris to comfort you through this difficult time. Keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.


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