tryst [sequel] // h.s

71

Chapter seventy one

Zara

No one ever tells you how life is supposed to go on after you suffer a miscarriage. Doctors inform you about recovery, treatments, psychological help, and everything you are about to experience physically. They prepare you for the next few heavy-loaded emotional weeks you are about to encounter, or how to make your partner feel secure and involved as well but there's not a perfect case, ever.

Yes, you experience physical pain and emotional stress in the aftermath of it all. Yes, life doesn't go around the same way as it did before. Some people tell you to avoid it, others to dive into the topic, as a form of immersion therapy. But the problem is, no one truly knows what goes on inside your head.

Not even the most academically praised therapist would be able to tell you exactly what's on your mind, and however they attempt to help, it's a very personal process and that means you tend to feel alone.

That's my biggest fear, being alone, being left alone, feeling alone, feeling like everyone is going to leave me alone. That emptiness, void sensation pounding in your chest, though full it feels like there's nothing in there.

Sometimes I crave emptiness, when my thoughts are too loud I can't manage to control them. It doesn't matter how many people surround me, how much of a support system I have, that never goes away.

I suppose it has something to do with my disorder, that mental instability I have to deal with every day. You search Borderline Personality Disorder on Google and the first symptoms to appear are that feeling of emptiness, along with the fear of being left alone.

These past few months, five and a half to be precise, have been the opposite of easy. They haven't exactly been difficult, but challenging seems to be the most fitting word. I fear that I might not remember what it felt like to be pregnant while I yearn to forget how it felt to lose my baby.

It felt like some sort of reboot button, a new beginning of some kind and it was good, for the most part, but it didn't come alone with success. It forced Harry and me to reconsider our priorities and change the way our relationship was leading towards toxicity. However, it came with the most painful reward of all times.

It nearly destroyed me, but it is something I will have to deal with for the rest of my life.

I don't want it to become the main centerpiece of my life or the focus of my attention, because it would lead me to be miserable. I have done enough mourning, which consequently will never be enough because I constantly think about it. However, I am getting better at dealing with it.

This made me realize I can't deal with everything on my own and I can't be the only one making efforts, that I am not alone and that those that surround me, love me and support me, even when not a lot of people know.

I want to be open, mostly because I have been reading about it so I feel less alone. Apparently, 1 in 4 recognized pregnancies end up in miscarriages with 85 percent of those happening in the first trimester, which is what happened to me. It's more common than one would think, but the problem relies on itself because it's a matter no one talks about.

I understand why and I probably won't become an advocate for transparency on miscarriage cases. It's simply too hard, and too painful to bring up about it but chances are, someone in your circle has gone through one and you might never know.

Harry and I made the decision to not tell our relatives, but I figured out that would have to change because I want to potentially release songs about my feelings surrounding that time in my life. As hard as it may be, those songs have helped me overcome some unwanted fears I didn't even know I had but they shaped me into the person I am today.