Parenting
The Unforeseen Resentment by Anne Carter
Updated: March 31, 2017
Originally Published: January 2, 2015
What struck me most about myself following my second miscarriage was the depth of resentment that surfaced. I had never identified as a person filled with hatred. Anger, jealousy, and spite were not traits I associated with myself. However, upon losing that precious baby, the flicker of hope transformed into an overwhelming, furious darkness. My resentment became a living entity, sharp and aggressive, initially fixating on one specific group: expectant mothers.
I found myself wishing the worst for them. I didn’t want their pregnancies to go smoothly. I resented their joy, their glowing faces, and their supportive partners. I despised their round bellies, their cheerful attitudes, and even their silly maternity clothes. I imagined them stumbling in their maxi dresses, spilling decaf coffee all over their oblivious husbands. I craved for someone else to share in my misery, to feel as lost and defeated as I did. I morphed into someone I barely recognized, dragging my former kind-hearted self into the shadows. She felt irretrievably lost, and I couldn’t recall how to summon her back.
The new, resentful version of me emerged, blinking in the light, only able to view the world through the lens of my grief. Everyday life continued around me, with people laughing, shopping, and enjoying their lives while I was engulfed in despair. The sight of mothers, both expectant and those with children, was particularly painful. Their happiness felt like salt in my wounds, a stark reminder of my failures. They seemed effortlessly blessed while I mourned the loss of two hopeful beginnings.
Navigating social situations became a formidable challenge. Alone, I managed to hold myself together, finding solace in books or films, but in the presence of others, I felt exposed—like an unhealed burn victim. I was terrified of my own volatility. I had never experienced emotions so intense that they threatened to spill over at any moment. Just a single glance or kind word could unleash my turmoil.
I had lost control, and the one thing I had always abhorred was being unable to manage my emotions. I wanted to appear fine, composed, and successful. Thus, in addition to resenting others, I found myself loathing my own vulnerability and the profound isolation I felt.
Conflicting Voices
Within my mind, conflicting voices clashed incessantly. The battles unfolded like this:
Resentful Voice: I despise everyone who is happy. Why is no one else as miserable as I am?
Rational Voice: There are countless individuals out there facing far worse hardships than you, trust me.
Guilty Voice: Indeed! Some have endured the loss of a child they knew and loved. Can you fathom the depth of that pain? You have no right to complain; you can always try again.
Resentful Voice: Shut up. I don’t care about anyone else. I just know my own misery is overwhelming.
For a time, the Resentful Voice dominated. Eventually, the Rational and Guilty Voices began to gain traction. I wish I could say they triumphed and pulled me from my depths of despair, allowing me to heal through goodness and reason. But that’s not how it unfolded.
Today, I can affirm that I have emerged from that dark place, but not entirely on my own. My journey back to my better self was not solely facilitated by friends or family. The definitive turning point came when I experienced a healthy pregnancy, leading to the blessing of my children. I got lucky—immensely so.
Had that not occurred, I genuinely wonder where I would be now. While I resumed a semblance of normalcy after my miscarriages, I was merely masking my internal devastation. I would have eventually found my way back to a life of strength and confidence, but it would have taken a significant amount of time.
As one of the fortunate ones now, I long to reach out to women currently suffering like I once did. I want them to understand that I truly empathize. The pain is profound, and I am sincerely sorry for their struggles. It’s acceptable to harbor resentment during such a difficult time. What you’re experiencing is heart-wrenching, and it’s okay to feel that way. Anyone suggesting otherwise is mistaken. Life can indeed be unrelentingly challenging. You will navigate through it, not because you want to, but because you possess a strength you may not yet recognize.
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In summary, the journey through grief can evoke unexpected emotions, including resentment. It’s vital to acknowledge these feelings and recognize that healing often requires time and support from various sources, including personal experiences and unforeseen blessings.