Why Number Five

I had gone through the process of de-converting before this last loss. This was not the final straw as they say. But this was the day that I asked for a divorce and told John to get the fuck out. Our marriage was very rocky from the beginning and that is putting it lightly. I was trying to get out for at least a year. 

We were living in Southwestern Illinois. We decided to move back home to see if it would help our marriage. He knew without a doubt that I was hanging from a string with him. 

He asked me, begged me, to get pregnant again. I knew he was doing that to try to keep hold of me. I was angry that he was even suggesting it. He saw everything I went through. Sitting in the shower even while it was cold, bleeding and crying. I was a complete mess. I was so fed up with people telling me that god had a plan, everything happens for a reason, and offering suggestions.

I do not know why I agreed to do it, I knew what the outcome would be. I would lose it again. How could he ask me? How could he??? I think it was selfish and cruel. I told myself if and when I start to bleed then I am done. That is exactly what happened. 

So I began to lose the pregnancy when he was at work. I went to pick him up and I will never forget the look on his face. I did not even have to say it. Is this what you wanted? Is this what you wanted to see again? The hate I had for him in that moment was probably like none I have ever experienced. 

I lost my fifth pregnancy, I lost what I thought my life would be, I lashed out, I made him watch it to the bitter end. Then I made him leave and I filed for divorce. 

The thing is that this entire time I thought something was wrong with my body. I felt like I was poison, my body hated me. I found out a couple of years ago his new wife was having problems. They went for testing and it turned out John had a chromosome abnormality. No one bothered to contact me to inform me. 

I lived all of that time thinking my body is just a fucking graveyard. But No, it was him. I was so angry when I heard that through an old mutual friend years after he knew the truth. It would not have taken much effort for someone in that family to care enough to let me know. Put my mind at ease. Offer me some healing and condolence. I guess that was just too much work. I guess none of them cared even the slightest bit for what I had gone through and how I felt. They say you should forgive. I do not believe in unconditional forgiveness. That bridge is not only burnt, it is like it never existed in the first place.

Number Five

Was it number five? I honestly had so many miscarriages while with my ex that I lost count. The first one was probably the worst. We had not been married more than a few months. We were so excited. Living five hours away from family I mailed tiny babies to my Grandparents to open up on Thanksgiving with the due date. 

I was immediately in Mother mode reading everything I could. I found an obgyn that I loved right away. We were having a baby. But we did not. 

We went home for Christmas, the day before I began to bleed. I laid on the couch not getting up for anything. I was at my Aunt and Uncle's. My Aunt totally took care of me and comforted me. The next day, Christmas, the bleeding continued. By evening I was in crippling pain and went to the ER. 

I was told I was miscarrying. There was nothing that could be done. The shock and devastation was unreal. A few hours later, at the house, I was experiencing contractions and crying. Everything took its course. I expelled into the toilet and I remember taking it out. That changed me for life. 

Then I had four more after that. I read everything I could find on coping with pregnancy loss. After the first one or two I was reading about women who had multiples. So many of them said they got used to it after a certain number. They got jaded. It still hurt but in a different way from the first one or the second one. A few years later I was one of those women. 

When I would hear about someone having just one I would find myself thinking so what, try four, try five. Then come and cry with me. This experience contributed to my divorce. I will come back to that later, and the fifth one, and how it was so significant. 

I was the woman that wanted five kids. I loved kids, I still love them, but I do not want to ever be pregnant again. The thought actually repulses me. There is so much more to say about what happened during those five years, and how the church treated me with my multiple pregnancy losses. 

This also contributed to my deconversion. I will come back to that too. The first one and the fifth one were the most traumatic. Because of how they altered my life. The fifth one completed while I was at work, and it did not phase me. I did not cry, I left the bathroom and got back on task. I filed for divorce.