Sometimes It’s Worse Than You Think

But realizing that can save you

Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash

TW: Miscarriage and a life-threatening situation

Friends, thank you again for your kind comments as I recover. This concept, of being saved because we finally realize how bad things really are, was something that came to me the other night, and I wanted to write about it while the intensity of my feelings was still fresh. You can also read my thoughts on grieving here: Be Careful How You Find Meaning in Suffering

“Joel’s going to have to take a medical leave from work to help me,” I thought desperately to myself. I was lying on the floor, hugging a cold glass bowl to my chest, because it was cooling on my skin, while also being ready for any throwing up I might experience. I was experiencing terrible vertigo on top of everything else and found it triggered by getting up on anything higher than the floor. I honestly felt like I was dying.

It wasn’t unusual for me to feel this badly with a stomach bug. It’s been years, but I used to get them regularly, and every time I thought first, “I’m dying,” which would then move to, “Lord, I hope I die. This is terrible.”

So I wasn’t overly alarmed, having had this experience so often before, but I was concerned because I was pregnant. A precious, precious pregnancy I wanted to protect at all costs. The kids and my husband had all had slight stomachaches and digestive issues, so we figured it was just hitting me particularly hard. Plus, I had just gotten to eight weeks, and that’s when morning sickness historically hit me hard.

It was six long hours of agony the first night, and then relief. But instead of getting better, I was yo-yoing back and forth between recovery and episodes of terrible digestive pain and out-of-my-mind nausea that made me feel like I was dying. I went for a gentle hike, came home and took a nap, only to wake up in such terrible distress I was writhing on the floor, hot, and extremely nauseous–I can’t even tell you how badly I felt. And then it would pass. Maybe for 24 hours, only for me to eat something (like some gluten-free crackers) and have it all start again for me. It was confusing.

After six days of this, mostly surviving off of popsicles and broth, I felt weak and like I was getting weaker every passing hour. So weak. So sick. I looked pale. And I just didn’t know how I could keep doing it.

Suddenly, being pregnant at 41 seemed like a rough situation to be in, one which I really didn’t know how I was going to get through.

“Maybe I’m just a wimp now. Too tired, too old. Too worn out and my body just can’t handle the stress as well as when I was younger.”

I really felt terrible that I felt this terrible. I didn’t want to be a bother, but I just couldn’t imagine getting through the next few weeks on my own. I needed help.

I just couldn’t do it anymore. I felt defeated. This was bad.

And then I began to bleed a little, sending us rushing to the ER. Only to find that I had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, and had bled a liter internally at some point. I was anemic. I needed surgery, but I needed a blood transfusion first.

When I felt like I was dying? Well, turns out that was closer to the truth than I knew.

When I felt like I couldn’t survive another week of feeling so terrible? Well, more truth to that than I knew, too.

I didn’t have a typical ectopic pregnancy, because my HCG levels were normal for how many weeks I was, and, as the ER doctor told me, usually I would have been in a lot more pain than I showed.

But what he didn’t know is that as someone with chronic pain issues, I’m far too used to feeling terrible and having to accept it. What would make many people run to a doctor can be just an unfortunate day for me.

“You’re a tough cookie,” the OBGYN who did my surgery told me while we were in prep.

And I thought about how much I had agonized over how agonized I was, how much I judged myself for not being able to pull myself together better. How much I knew I needed help, but little realized how much I needed it.

Sometimes, we tell ourselves it’s not that bad, but it’s so much worse than we imagined.

I hope that not many of you can relate to the above details, but I bet many of you know what it’s like to try to hide from yourself how bad your suffering, loss, or pain is. It’s scary to recognize how much you need help if you aren’t sure there is help to be had. It’s difficult to let yourself acknowledge your suffering if there isn’t a safe place to rest and recover from it.

Or maybe, like me, you know that there is nothing to do but endure the pain, so you learn to endure, instead of looking for relief.

How many times have I had to walk through what felt like unendurable pain? Too many times.

So many times that I can have a body part inside of me rupture, and it makes sense not to seek help. I’ve been inoculated against thinking that pain is something I can solve for myself.

But what if we have gotten too comfortable being in pain? What if there is help and hope for us physically?

What if the relational pain we feel can be solved by walking away from terrible relationships or by finding safer friends and community?

What if the untenable work situation you are in can be solved by not enduring it, but leaving it for another one?

What if the anxiety, depression, or lowness of spirits you experience could be mitigated with expert help?

What if, instead of enduring the pain, you just need some outside help?

Sometimes we don’t realize how bad it is until we get relief. Then we realize how much pain we were in before. It’s only then we realize how much courage (or foolishness!) we displayed in facing that much pain alone.

It’s not to say that there is always a cure for our pain. There is pain you simply must get yourself through. Ask anyone who has suffered with chronic pain. Right now, I’m in the early days of grief for the loss I just experienced, while also seeing my physical pain levels go down. I wish our emotional losses and soul suffering had a surgery and pain pills to make it all better.

I wish so very much that there wasn’t so much pain in this world.

But accepting that this world is painful doesn’t need to translate into accepting pain always. Sometimes, like me, you need to get yourself off your bedroom floor and go to the ER. Sometimes there are solutions for your pain if you will first acknowledge how bad it really is, and then get help for yourself.

Sometimes it’s worse than you think, but in that moment, maybe you will also find out that you can be saved.