Getting over this second miscarriage is really hard. Even though we lost this baby at an early stage, the pain is there, full force. At the same time, I don’t feel sad, I don’t need to cry. However, neither do I feel anything at all. No joy, no motivation to do anything. Nothing. I just feel really numb. There seems to be only one thing that can still bring a smile to my face, that gives me something to look forward to, to enjoy. You guessed it probably: it’s you. It must sound so cliché, but right now you are my beacon of light and of hope. The one thing that gives my life some meaning right now. Don’t get me wrong, I still love H, probably now more than ever, after all we’ve been through recently. But he’s hurting so much, too. He’s sad. Crushed. We are not able to cheer each other up right now. We’re supporting each other, but it’s so painful. So I’m coming right back to you. It’s not about love or sex. I guess it’s the same as last time. I find strength in your silent comforting, your support, just you being there. Your understanding. Your friendship.
We told our parents and kind of agreed to also tell our siblings, which is my brother and you. At one point or another you’d find out anyway. So I expected your mother to tell you, but maybe when H talked to her he told her not to say anything to you. You only found out about it when I told you yesterday.
But let me back up a bit first: on Saturday you made a really thoughtful offer. That next weekend get-together is approaching, you know, the one when we are to talk. So instead of just meeting there and having to find a good time to go for a walk together without anyone else around, you offered to come to us on Friday, have that conversation here while H is at work and then drive up there together with us. You’ll have the week off so there would be no scheduling conflicts. When I read that message on Saturday, it really brightened up my day, made me happy. It was just what I needed then. (I told you…my beacon.) I didn’t give you a definite answer then, just told you that I wouldn’t have to go to work that day either and so it would be an option, but we didn’t make a “final arrangement” yet.
Then yesterday was a really tough day for me. We met up with your mother nearby. It was very emotional, lots of crying. She’s trying to comfort us, but with her it tends to make matters worse sometimes. She’s a wonderful person and she does it from the goodness of her heart, but I just can’t deal with that right now. So after that emotional day, I decided to email you and honestly told you how much it would mean to me if you could actually do what you had offered. And then I also openly told you why it means so much to me. I told you that we’d lost another baby last week and that things are rough right now.
I got your reply about 2 hours later. You said it would definitely be no problem to come here on Friday and that you would do it. You mentioned that your mother had not told you about the miscarriage yet. And then you said: “This blinking cursor is getting on my nerves. Let’s just use that Friday for everything else.” It took me a while to figure out what you meant by that. I guess you were at a loss for words and could only stare at the mouse cursor blinking in your email that you were trying to write…
I’m sorry. I didn’t want to burden you with this. I really thought your mother had told you already. I actually have no clue what this kind of news does to you. Do you just feel really sad for H and me? Or is it a different kind of pain because you might actually like me a bit more than I think?
I really do look forward to that Friday. Two and a half weeks still. I’m not afraid. I feel that I can be completely honest with you. And I am open to whatever you will have to say, to this crazy mess I got myself into with you, to your feelings for me (of whatever kind they are) and to H’s and my recent loss. I really feel this deep connection with you, some bond on a more profound level.
I am so glad to have you in my life.