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How My Miscarriage Is Affecting My Husband and My Mental Health

I am a worrywart (that's the quaint name for having an anxiety disorder). I've always been like that and I attribute it to a saying that my father attributed to my grandmother: "99% of the things you worry about never come to pass." So I have always had this insane and childish idea that if I worry about something, it won't happen. And so far so good — I haven't died in a plane crash or drowned on vacation, my parents are still alive, and there has been no zombie apocalypse. I worried that it would rain on my wedding day and we wouldn't have the beautiful beach ceremony that I dreamed about. It did rain, but it stopped raining just long enough for the ceremony, proving me right yet again: worry works.

Well, I worried I would have a miscarriage and it did happen, which kind of blew my whole theory and now the thing I am worried about is my husband.

I'm wondering and worrying about how long my husband can continue to be kind, wonderful and caring.

I read that miscarriage affects men differently than women, that they grieve, but not like we do, they also don't have to contend with the hormones. In clinical terms, they say it can take 4 to 6 weeks for the hormones to leave your system. Nowhere does it say in the paperwork that you will be so sad, your former personality will be unrecognizable through your veil of grief. It doesn't say that sometimes you will feel so angry, you will lash out with words and lose a friend or snap at your wonderful and caring husband for no reason at all. I'm wondering and worrying about how long my husband can continue to be kind, wonderful and caring. People often comment on the almost comical personality differences between us — he's quiet, reserved, rational and logical. I'm the opposite, but he said it best in our vows: we are not an identical match but an ideal match.

I have this joke I like to make about what I bring to the household (because it's not money) — I bring the fun. I love having parties and socializing and making sure my introvert husband participates, because I think he's the funniest, smartest guy in the world and I want to show him off, poor thing. But now...I'm not fun anymore. I know he felt sad that we lost the baby and I know he understands why I'm still not "better" but I'm really worried he's going to say, "Okay, enough." I feel that way writing about the miscarriage too, like people are thinking, "That's enough sad talk. You're bringing me down, man, I just want to look at videos of cats on Roombas."

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When I was pregnant, we talked about buying a bigger home once we started our family. We are getting a new roof on our house today; my husband wants to make sure we keep everything up so we can sell it easily. He's thinking about the future in a very real way. He's going to work, he's seeing his friends and playing piano, he gets out of bed every day. I'm barely making it to my therapy appointments and the grocery store.

He props me up, he takes me to the movies and to dinner because I can't seem to get it together to cook all our meals like I used to and the worst part is...sometimes I'm mad at him. Because he's not crying, because he's not sad enough, and doesn't seem to feel the loss as deeply as I do, he's not still spotting and it feels unfair. He's ready to move on and unfortunately my body is not. Logically, I know it has only been a few weeks but as noted above, logic is not one of my strong suits, and I am so worried I won't feel better fast enough for him. It's a terrible feeling and terrible thing to worry about. Of course he tells me not to worry, that it will take time, and I nod my head and wipe my eyes, but inside, my stomach and mind are all twisted. Does he really mean it?

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At the time that I am writing this, Robin Williams recently committed suicide and Facebook is full of sadness and also cries for people to be more open about mental health issues. I'm seeing a therapist to cope with the grief and anxiety brought on by my miscarriage. I'm terrified of what comes next for me and my husband, and how my grief will affect our relationship, our intimacy, our chance at making another baby.

Some days I think I'm going under, but without the help I'm getting from my therapist, I'm sure by now I would have already drowned. I am realizing that my anxiety and fears aren't going to just go away without professional help, but neither is my husband. As my therapist pointed out, I'm married to a man I love; he makes me happy, our relationship is healthy. My husband is a man who cares for me, is committed to me and loves me in a way I don't think I ever thought I would be or could be loved — worry warts and all.

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