The Loss
Elan woke up around 5:00a.m. on a Thursday with a sharp pain in her abdomen. Although she knew what was happening from the two prior pelvic ultrasounds over the past two weeks, she was still in shock and disbelief. She ran to the bathroom and barely had enough time to pull down her underwear before the gestational sac and placenta were expelled from her body into her hands. As she held the proof of her pregnancy in her bloody hands, tears immediately streamed down her cheeks. She started screaming, “James,” “James,” “James!” Her husband woke up from his sound sleep not sure what was happening until he walked into the bathroom and saw her holding proof of their pregnancy and the baby they had dreamed about for years. As James processed what he was witnessing, his face saddened. And although they both knew this would happen neither of them were prepared. James gently told Elan, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” As Elan showered and saw the blood flow from her hands and body to the drain, she sobbed in a manner she did not know was possible. In that moment, she felt her dream of a family end. The past five years of scans, testing, surgery, fertility treatments, and invitro fertilization were now over. She felt this would change her forever because the hope she held onto for years ended as she realized there would be no future pregnancies.
Over the next few days, Elan was not functional. It was the first time in her life that she could not make herself move or care. Her whole body hurt. Much more than the physical pain of cramps, hunger, and dehydration, it was the exhaustion that came from grief that was worst of all. It took her half a day to move from her bed to the sofa or recliner. When her husband would ask if she was hungry at 3:00 or 4:00p.m., she never knew how to respond. The idea of eating felt trivial, and she could not even remember the feeling of hunger. James would make soup or order food, and when it came, she would eat and then go back to the safety of her bed to cry and sleep.
The next few days continued in this pattern. Even the idea of showering felt like it would expel too much energy. But, one morning while feeling the physical pain and exhaustion of grief, Elan realized that even though she had every right to feel this pain in this moment, she did not want to feel like this forever. The only thing that had ever made her feel better in times of distress or sadness was physical activity. Although it took every ounce of energy to get herself out of bed each morning, she looked at the Garmin app to find a 5K walk/run program. Elan had long put up her running shoes after injuries from two car accidents, but she felt she had to move in some way to start living once more. She found a program that started with a nine-minute segment that consisted of a four-minute warm-up and a five-minute run. Elan was still bleeding and battling severe cramps while alternating Advil and Tylenol to ease the pain, but she felt she had to do this.
As she stepped outside and heard the beep of her watch, she began the warm-up walk. She listened to music on her way. As exhausted as she was, it felt good to be outside. She had not left the confines of her home in over week, not even to check the mail. She felt the sun on her face and acknowledged the beauty of the trees on a crisp fall day. Her watch then commanded that she run for five minutes. Although she picked up her feet to run, Elan could have moved more quickly by speed walking. Each step her feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Her lower abdomen and vagina throbbed. But somehow, with each heavy step, the act of putting one foot in front of the other helped her remember that she was alive. Even though she was not moving quickly or covering much distance, the act of movement made her feel that maybe just maybe she could move forward and somehow survive.