Let me start with a little background as to why the current dynamics were so upsetting and volatile.
Growing up in the Mormon faith, we were taught from the time we could walk that families can be together forever through saving ordinances, that is IF we kept all the commandments and covenant’s made AND proved our worthiness to live with God again. If we didn’t... well..... SEPARATION! We were painted this beautiful altruistic family life where the husband was the priesthood provider and the mother the nurturing supporter. We went to church every Sunday, yet there was this huge dichotomy from this perfect family life and what was going on at home.
Behind closed doors there was major physical, mental, emotional abuse. Dad had a hot temper not to be crossed. My mom performed her duties as a homemaker, dad went to work. It was a twisted sort of fundamentalist view of power in the name of religion exercised on my dad’s part. He would tell me that a wife was to be submissive to her husband just as Eve was put in her place for disobedience then commanded to submit to Adam.
I was taught the woman was secondary to the man as he as the head. He was the one with the final say and the woman could only share her opinion and insight. Wife was to be obedient. He would then confide in me how selfish and controlling my mother was for not fulfilling on his every want and desire. I told myself then as a teenager that I would never reject my future spouse sexually. Right? Cuz. I would be the good giving wife and therefore, he would then love and respect me in return.
I was left with a very confused and distorted view of what it meant to be a woman, a wife and a mother and how to have that strong close family I always wanted.
I wanted more than anything in the world to create that strong loving family structure that I didn’t get to have growing up. I promised God at 17, I would do anything to be able to create that. I tried to keep and obey every commandment and expectation I was given in the church growing up so I could live with my family forever with God again.
At the age of 24, I had been married 5 years with 2 little boys ages 4 and 2 that I was basically raising and caring for on my own and pregnant for the third time.
Oh no, no, no. This can’t be. I didn’t want to admit I was actually really pregnant again!! It wasn’t that I was opposed to having another child, it was that I didn’t want to bring another child into a marriage that was broken and wouldn’t last.
I didn’t want to believe this was really happening and I kind of secretly wished it would go away. The pregnancy that is.
This is not how I wanted things to turn out and I was trying so hard to do all the RIGHT things.
I kept thinking about leaving. I fantasized what life would of been like if I had married someone else. I had all these evil thoughts.
I had lost hope in my marriage. I just as well been a single mom that didn’t have to work. If I left how would I support my two boys while being pregnant? Where would I go? I had no car, no money, no place to go.
My husband was disengaged, a tv addict, at times explosive and expected me to meet his physical needs. I would allow him to take me physically so that I could avoid him becoming angry with me. While I would try to talk with him about how I wanted his involvement and his attention, I believed at the time that was all I could do since he was head of the house, after all he had the final say on things.
I cried every morning after he’d go to work. Why God? Why? I would ask? Is there any hope for us? Why were we brought together? Why would you send me another child into a broken marriage? I believed I was stuck, powerless, with no way out. I was meant to suffer for all the things I had done wrong. I must have done something wrong to deserve this.
I remember after 11 weeks into the pregnancy, I started spotting. I thought to myself, perhaps this was it and I’ve been given an out. I didn’t think I cared if the pregnancy didn’t make it.
My husband’s brother moved in with us when his wife kicked him out. The two were happy to spend time together. I was frankly jealous of the attention he got and a bit resentful I had another person in the house to care for.
I wanted to tell my husband I had started bleeding but I couldn’t seem to get his attention away from the tv long enough and then he’d go to bed before everyone else.
One day as I was sitting on the sofa, I started to suddenly have heavy cramping pains. I closed my eyes and he asked if I was tired. I told him I was cramping. Just then his brother drove into the driveway and he went out to meet him. I was angry and hurt that he would just get up and leave me in pain to go be with his brother.
My boys were hungry and looking to get started on dinner. I went into the kitchen to wash out a pan for dinner and started to feel stuff come out of me. I handed my 4 year old son the pan to finish washing and went to the bathroom expecting to be right back.
I sat on the toilet and had extreme cramping pains while blobs kept coming out of me. I realized what was happening. No one told me a miscarriage would hurt so much physically. I felt incredibly alone. I felt like my insides were being squeezed inside out.
My son started knocking on the door saying he’d finished washing the pan. I kept thinking I’d be out in a few minutes. I had no idea what I was about to experience.
More and more stuff just kept coming out of me. It was a horrible feeling knowing what I was expelling. It was totally awful.
My son went and got dad and he came and knocked on the door asking if I was loosing the baby. I said yes and then he went and made dinner for the boys. By the time they had dinner and cleaned up, I was still on the toilet starting to pass out.
I wanted to fall on the floor to lay down but I was too weak to even move. When I thought I was done, I stood up and saw the cord hanging out of me. Blood was everywhere and I started to cry this little whimpering sort of a cry as that was all the energy I had.
It was then my husband came in and helped carry me to the bath tub to clean up. He flushed the toilet and explained I didn’t want to see that. I wanted to stop him because I wanted to see my baby and say good bye and maybe burry him or her. That made me very angry for long time.
I was too tired to say anything at the time and welcomed the warm water. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. I barely made it upstairs to bed. The contractions really hurt. They hurt way worse than I remember they did after my previous births. As I laid there, I remember thinking how I didn’t care if I left this world. It would be an easy escape.
We didn’t have medical insurance and didn’t consider going to the hospital besides I thought it was about done and I’d be better soon.
The next morning my husband took everyone to church. I couldn’t hardly get up. No one knew I was pregnant, he just told people, I was sick. That afternoon, I wanted him to hold me and I said I wanted to talk to him but he said he didn’t want to talk about it so we were just silent.
I started to feel sad about the loss of the baby and all the things I might have done wrong. I must have done something wrong. Maybe God was punishing me for me doubting my marriage, for not wanting the pregnancy.
If only I had tried harder to be a more loving and a supportive wife. Maybe if I had gone out of my way more to show him affection, he would want to help me and spend time with me.
Why? Why did this happen? Oh God, I was so lost. What now? Where will we go from here?
I talked with someone I knew about the miscarriage and my marriage. She had had one and so that provided me an outlet to talk. I started to think about the meaning of life and my family. All of it. I questioned all of it. How could I raise my boys well without the involvement of their father? How much longer would I stay? How could I make it on my own if I left? Would we ever be able to work it out? Was this marriage hopeless? Do I just wait on him? How much longer am I willing to stay? Will I feel alone forever? Did my baby leave because I didn’t want it? Does my baby feel like I rejected him or her?
The following evening after my husband came home from work, I kept reaching out to him for his company. His brother never mentioned anything to me, never acknowledge what had happen. I heard him tell my husband that his wife always went crazy after she had a miscarriage. Was I crazy?
I wanted my husband’s company. Oh how I wanted his attention, I wanted to talk to him about what I was feeling but he just kept walking away. I was cramping real bad again. I asked him why he kept abandoning me. He said he didn’t want me to see him cry. Will this change things between us or will we just keep going on like we have?
My sons kept bringing things to help me feel better. I had to tell them the baby was gone. They kept checking on me.
I kept trying to open conversation up with my husband to talk about my feelings about the miscarriage but he really didn’t want to talk about it. I talked to my mom but all she could talk about was how I should go see a doctor and all the bad things that could happen. I didn’t care, I just wanted her to hear me and be sensitive to what I was feeling. She offered none of that.
I continued to have abdominal pains and light headedness from the loss of blood. I would try to take care of the house until the cramping pains would start up again.
I finally did go see a doctor for evaluation but my husband didn’t even come with me. I felt comfort in spending time with my boys. I wanted to feel understood and I slipped into a depression. I expressed my disgust for the messy kitchen and while my husband made dinner, I sat down to rest from the abdominal pain. He asked me to make juice and I said I would in a minute. He later got mad at me for sitting there and staring at him. I got up and went and sat on the sofa. He then banged the pitcher on the counter and said, “I guess I’ll make juice then.”
So many things tearing me up inside, I went upstairs and bawled my eyes out. There were a hundred things I wanted to share with him but I just couldn’t talk to him. I felt so depressed like he didn’t care about me.
The following Sunday it was back to church and all the responsibilities they had for me there. My younger brother had come to stay the week. When we pulled in the driveway after church at home, I just sat there. The thought of 5 boys expecting me to be strong was too much for me. I told my husband there was nothing left in me to give. I didn’t have anything left in me. I just cried for awhile, I didn’t feel like talking.
After awhile, he came back out to make me go in. My 4 year old son decided on something to put together for dinner by taking a bunch of canned items into a baking dish and the others put some cornmeal mix on top and served it with rice.
That night I went upstairs to rest and my husband came up about 9 PM and said he needed to go to bed and wanted me to put the boys in bed. I didn’t really respond and he became angry with me. He said he wished I’d help out more that he was tired of me being depressed. I tried to tell him I was doing as much as I physically could, just as much as he was doing. When he told me he was tired of me being depressed, I threw a small suitcase at him and started to leave. He grabbed me and held me tight and I started crying really hard. I wanted to leave and broke away and cried on the bed. He said something rude, like you’re just going to lie there and cry about it? At that point, I became outraged and started throwing a pillow around because I was furious. He continued to provoke me by accusing me of throwing a temper tantrum like my son in order to solve my problems. I became so enraged at that point I started pounding on him which I had never done. Once I realized I was totally out of control, I went outside and sat. It was a little chilly and I was trembling and shaking, I was so upset. My abdomen hurt and I felt so totally emotionally exhausted I was numb and could no longer cry. I felt I couldn’t go on and there was nothing left in me to pour out in prayer anymore.
I went in the house to get a couple of blankets. There was no where to sleep downstairs with 2 uncles staying there. I took the blankets and warm clothes and slept in the truck. It took awhile to fall asleep, it was uncomfortable and cold.
I went to the doctor again, still bleeding and passing tissue, cramping and not looking very good.
Things ended up blowing up with my husband’s brother. I was not involved in the decision of him staying with us, he saw me taking sides with his wife and I didn’t want him there and wanted to know what his plans were and told him I was having difficulties in my marriage. He ended up leaving not long after in a huff.
I ended up venting all my pent up anger with my husband about not being there for me or letting me be involved with things outside the home. That we we’re not together on anything. We were not working together. I got a lot off my chest but it didn’t seem to resolve anything.
It was a few weeks before I went and had the D&C done to remove the placenta that was still sitting in my uterus developing an infection. When it was all done, I felt a sense of relief and started feeling better. My sons continued to ask about the baby and I would have to remind them it wasn’t there anymore.
So life went on much the same, still stirred up as to where we would go from here and if things would ever improve between us and not knowing what to believe in or have faith in anymore. That experience made me ask a lot of questions, do a lot of searching for answers for truth. It was the beginning of a long journey.