What if I'm Not?

The phrase was always accompanied by a sympathetic look, a hand on my shoulder or a hug “You will be fine.” Each time I took in the words it didn’t feel like it was intended to feel which was sympathetic, loving, encouraging, it felt like a gut punch.  After the birth of my beautiful baby girl I was diagnosed with a freak case of placenta accreta. My first pregnancy was uncomplicated and normal in almost every way. I only had one risk factor for accreta with my second- a low-lying placenta. Apparently that was enough for my body to embed a chunk of placenta deep into my uterine muscle. We didn’t actually find this out until after Mira was born. Three hours postpartum I hemorrhaged and that was where I first encountered it “You’re gonna be okay.” At that time I was exhausted and confused and didn’t know how to feel about it but it bothered me. A week later I gushed blood at home and went back into the hospital. “You’ll be okay” they said as they sent me off for a D&C. Two days later I was back in triage with excruciating abdominal pain. “You’re going to be fine.” They said as I had a CT scan, another D&C and and the insertion of a uterine Foley bulb. “You’ll be fine” the nurse said as I hemorrhaged again. “You’re going to be just fine” they said as they embolized my uterus. “I have a feeling you’re going to be fine.”

Friends and family continued saying versions of it as we waited out the months between Mira’s birth and a hysteroscopic procedure to remove the external portion of retained placenta. With each utterance I sank deeper inside myself unsure of how to respond. But since I’m here now after the failed hysteroscopic resection waiting on a hysterectomy I think I’ve put my finger on it. The truth is I am not okay. No, I’m not going to die from this but what I’m going through is hard and telling me that I’m going to be okay does not help me right now. What I’m dealing with is extremely difficult and some days feels so impossible that I can’t even see my own feet let alone some point in the misty distance at which I’ll “be fine.” Wonderful people I love you all but telling me I’m going to be fine doesn’t feel reassuring it feels pressuring. Like I am somehow supposed to improve this situation which was out of my hands to begin with. It doesn’t feel comforting. It feels like with one little phrase you are dismissing my day-to-day struggles, what I’m going through in this moment. Likewise saying that it will be okay doesn’t feel encouraging it feels like you don’t want to talk me again until I am okay, like you’re afraid of my hardship.

Through all of this there have been two approaches that have been balm to my soul. A friend I hadn’t seen in awhile just sat quietly while I unfolded the details, taking it in. Then she said simply “This sounds really hard.” I wanted to cry because she knew she didn’t have the answers but took the time to validate my experience. The other approach is one I have met in those I know intimately and those I only know laterally “How can I help you through this?” Every time someone says that to me I am flooded with relief and reminded that I am not facing this alone. I’m sure there are other ways to be with and encourage those who are struggling but these two have brought me the most comfort.