I'm hesitating to write because the only answer I know is TIME. If you're like me, that's the last thing you want to hear. But I had to write because I was asking myself the same question one year ago. I felt so empty, so robbed, so devastated. The grief was physically painful and exhausting. I felt weighed down by lethargy and could not muster up the energy to do anything through my day. I felt like I would never be happy again; and then, when the day came that I did feel a little better, I felt guilty and sad about that, like I was losing the baby again. On top of all this, I felt guilty for feeling so much grief when I had already been blessed with other healthy children, like I "should be over it" already, guilty for having no clue and not being there for them when friends had gone through this before, amazed that I am surrounded by women walking around with this kind of pain in their past and we never talk about it, and all kinds of other "shoulds" just because our society doesn't talk about this topic.
What helped me the most was having a number of friends who understood and "gave me permission" to feel whatever I felt, and to talk about it if I wanted. I also am a bookworm who processes things by gathering information, so I read a few good books about what other women have felt. Miscarriage comes in so many sizes and shapes, so to speak, and it affects us in so many different ways. Accepting that I was going to feel what I was going to feel and that was okay was the biggest struggle I had, but also the most helpful thing in making peace with it.
The hardest part for me was discovering that my recovery was not linear. When I finally started to feel better, I felt I was entitled to feel at least that good the next day and the next and the next. Instead, just when I thought things were back to normal and I was "over it," I would find myself completely and unexpectedly run over by grief again. This happened so many times in the first year, and I got so angry every time because I did NOT want to feel this again! But the anger only made it worse. All I can say is that the bad days start to spread out more and more, and they knock me down less when they do come. I'm still nervous about attending baby showers and seeing new babies, and I'm still embarrassed sometimes when the tears pop up at inconvenient moments. But I've accepted that this sorrow is part of who I am now and it's receded to something I can live with. Sorry this is so long, but I found I was writing more for myself than for you once I got started. I hope something can be a little helpful for you. I am feeling for and praying with you and wish I could give you a big hug. If you want to talk more, feel free to email me directly at ____@____.com.