I have always struggled with body image issues.
The miscarriage has only made my body hate so much worse. I feel completely betrayed by my body. I’m so angry with it still. Not only could it not develop a normal pregnancy but it couldn’t figure out there was no baby growing. It made me so nauseous I could barely function while I knew there was no chance of a healthy baby.
Then, it bled for almost a full week longer than what the doctor told me I could expect. Not enough to be dangerous or even worrisome. Just enough to be annoying and make me miserable.
Then I finally got a bit of a break only to have the mother of all deluges for my first period “back.” I ruined a pair of pants, a set of sheets and countless underwear because I simply wasn’t prepared for this uncommonly heavy “welcome back to fertility.”
That finally ended and I hoped my body would even things out. In the in between Joel and I still weren’t trying but we weren’t exactly careful either.
The day my next period was due I spotted a bit so I prepared myself for another deluge like last time. I walked around for four days with basically a diaper on only to have barely another spot show up. Then things stopped altogether. Pregnancy tests kept coming back negative and so I found myself in a weird limbo of did I just finish the lightest period of my life or am I secretly pregnant already? I knew if I was pregnant the fact that I didn’t even get the faintest of lines on a test was not a good sign for viability.
One week later my questions were answered with yet another ruined pair of underwear. Turns out my period just decided to show up a full week late for the first time in my entire life. FUN! This one wasn’t quite as Niagara Falls as the last one so at least there’s that.
Then(!) two days ago I woke up, stepped out of bed and yelped because my ankle hurt so much. It felt like I sprained it. Except there’s no swelling and I have no memory of doing anything to injure it. It’s still the same today and I have no idea what’s going on. Luckily I have another week off dance before the summer session starts. It’s already stopping me from working out. If this mystery injury doesn’t clear up soon though it’s going to keep me from doing the one thing that’s been keeping me sane.
I just want to know when my body will be done messing with my head. I feel like I just start to heal and then my body pulls some other form of torture out to undo all of it. It makes me terrified to start trying again.
I’m pretty sure I know my body is not actually out to get me. That doesn’t help me feel any less betrayed by it though.