Faking It

A short time ago I was accused of faking my illness and my miscarriages. My accuser was someone who I've never actually met in person, who was getting their information from someone who is not up to date on my condition, and who was making those accusations for no other purpose than to hurt me. I can say that their mission was accomplished: It hurt.

I find myself still thinking about what she said. Every time I cry because of the lingering ache of losing my daughter, I think about it. Every time I wonder if I'm ever going to be a mother, I think about it. Every time I look at the ultrasound picture of my little girl, I think about it. Every time I vomit up bile, I think about it. Every time the pain hurts so bad I forget to breathe, I think about it. Every time they stick yet another needle into my bruised, scarred, sore arms and feet, I think about it. Every day I was in the hospital looking at all the tubes and machines hooked up to my exhausted, battered body, every time my family and friends left the hospital and I cried, every time the doctors and nurses would look at me and say, "I'm so sorry," I would think about it.

I find myself thinking about it a lot.

And I am now at the point where I don't want to think about it anymore.

I can't help but wonder. I wonder how someone could say something that cruel to another human being. I wonder how any circumstance could justify that in her mind. I wonder what I possibly could've done to make her feel the need to hurt me like that. I wonder if its true, if it could possibly be true. Because if I had Munchausen's, then I could get better.

But it just can't be. I can't fake the lab results, I can't fake the pain, I can't fake the fevers, I can't fake the weight loss. I can't fake a pregnancy test, or an ultrasound, and I can't fake a miscarriage. I can't fake being sick well enough to be admitted to the hospital 6 times, or to convince the doctors to do surgical procedures on me. I can't fake vomiting up bile, or internal inflammation, or bile duct stenosis, elevated LFTs, elevated amylase, inflamed pancreas, or septicemia. This is reality, its my reality.

I also wonder what I am supposed to accomplish by faking this stuff. I can't work. Maybe that sounds good, but I've had a job since I was 14. I was always the girl who knew she would be a working mom. I had my dream job, my dream career. I worked hard in school to be a Medical Assistant, and being a CMA was a huge part of my identity. My job made me happy, it was fulfilling. Being at home all day makes me miserable. Between being sick and in pain, not being able to work, and my miscarriages, I got to the point where I was suicidal and wanted to die. I even took a lot of pills to try to kill myself around Christmas time. Being sick put a huge strain on my marriage, and may have caused irreparable damage. My illness and my miscarriages have brought nothing positive into my life. I pray every day, sometimes multiple times a day, for it to stop. I would give anything, ANYTHING, to wake up in the morning completely healed.

I take comfort in the knowledge that I'm not alone. Unfortunately, I have friends who are going through similar trials, and although I wish they wouldn't have to go through this, I'm grateful to have people in my life who understand. I'm grateful for the support of my family. They are always there for me, they lift my spirits, and they fill me with love. I'm grateful for all of the people who pray for me. I know that God loves me, that He has a plan for me, and I have faith in that plan. I know my Savior has felt my pain, and suffered and died for me, and I'm grateful for His ultimate sacrifice. And, I'm grateful for the experience, because it has given me empathy and understanding. I understand people with chronic pain and illnesses so much better than I did before, and I understand the heartache of miscarriage so much better than I did before. I hope that these experiences will allow me to reach out and help ease someone else's suffering. If I can help even one person, it will all be worth it.

And, to the person who accused me of faking it, I have this to say to you:

I forgive you. I'm forgiving you because I wish to purge the poison of anger from my body. I'm washing away your words permanently. And, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you feel the need to wound another human being like that, and I'm sorry that you have so much anger and malice in your heart. I hope for your sake that you are able to let that go before it leaves a scar. I pray for you by name every night, I hurt because you are hurting. We may never meet again in this life, but when I see you again on the other side I want you to know that I will greet you with love and acceptance. Because you are my spirit sister, you are a special, unique spirit, and you deserve nothing less.