An experience like this is completely isolating.
And yet, there are so many women who have had similar experiences. And who are open about it.
Who blog about it, just like me.
I spend a lot of time on these blogs. I click and read, click and read. Digging myself deeper into the rabbit hole.
I ignore my own life for hours, reading their stories. Sometimes it makes me feel worse. I read one story about her daughter's stillbirth and thought it sounded just so horrific, so unimaginable. And then I realized: this sounds just like our story. I cried for her. And I cried for myself.
I've read about women who have had TWO stillborn babies. Holy shit.
Often times, it makes me feel better. Less isolated. Less crazy. More hopeful (especially the stories about their rainbow babies. I love all their rainbow babies. It's like I just wrote about how I can't stand to see babies or pregnant women... but what I mean is that I can't stand to see babies or pregnant women... unless they've already had a loss. And then I find it hopeful. I understand this is not rational).
It's hard to emerge from the rabbit hole. There are hundreds of more stories I want to read, women I want to connect with. It's hard to come up for air.
But at what point is it unhealthy?
I asked Justin this question. He noted that I seem to be in the rabbit hole quite a bit. And if he's noticing, that means I'm choosing to be in the rabbit hole rather than spend time with him and Ben.
Why is it easier to be in the rabbit hole than present for my own my husband and son?