My friends have babies on the brain, I do not. Well, not in the same way. It's getting to that point for many of us when TTC is coming up. Most of my friends have children around James' age, and I understand the compulsion to want to think about it. I had been thinking about it a lot in the last few months as well. DH and I had joked about it. We both knew it wasn't great timing financially and professionally, but we were both ready to start thinking about #2.
And #2 came along with no planning and no trying and what would have been no stress. Not like James. It was exactly how I wanted to get pregnant the second time and then I lost the baby. Now the whole relax and let it happen plan is shot to hell.
But what's killing me is the talk of babies. Suddenly every one is talking about HPTs and temping and charts, and I'm a wreck. I love my friends. They are amazing women and they were there for me when I miscarried. But I want to scream "Stop with all the baby talk! It's killing me!" But how can I? I understand they are excited. I understand they want babies. I want another one too, but I don't begin to know when I physically and emotionally will be able to try again.
I suppose I feel left out. How stupid is that? But it's more than that. It's different than being the girl left out at recess. I can't describe it. It's feeling robbed and cheated - feeling as though I have been violated and constantly reminded of it.
I wish them all the best, but I'm not sure when I'll crack.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Mars and Venus
I love my husband, but I'm hurt as his ability to move on so quickly. Other than to ask how I'm doing or give me a hug, he has shown no emotion about this loss. He was excited at the ER when they confirmed the pregnancy. We joked about minivans and Christmas, but once it was clear how serious the situation was, how unlikely it would be that I would keep the baby, he became reserved. When we found out for sure the baby was gone, he was more concerned for me.
He's been supportive. I shouldn't complain. And yet, part of my sorrow is that I feel so wholly alone in this grief. I don't want him to hurt and yet I want to know he's sad too. I'm not sure he is and that hurts me deeply.
I know pregnancy is different for men and women. He was never the type to hold my belly or talk to the baby in utero. He did, however, get me take-out, medicine, go to childbirth classes, clean, and take care of me. But I was always a little sad that I alone bonded with our unborn child. I longed for him to want that connection then and I wish he had wanted it with our angel. The weekend we waited for the news of the miscarriage, I ached for him to reach out to my belly. To acknowledge I was pregnant if only for a moment.
But that moment has passed. There is no child in my womb. But I loved that child and I miss that child, although he was never really mine. And I wish I could share that with someone.
He's been supportive. I shouldn't complain. And yet, part of my sorrow is that I feel so wholly alone in this grief. I don't want him to hurt and yet I want to know he's sad too. I'm not sure he is and that hurts me deeply.
I know pregnancy is different for men and women. He was never the type to hold my belly or talk to the baby in utero. He did, however, get me take-out, medicine, go to childbirth classes, clean, and take care of me. But I was always a little sad that I alone bonded with our unborn child. I longed for him to want that connection then and I wish he had wanted it with our angel. The weekend we waited for the news of the miscarriage, I ached for him to reach out to my belly. To acknowledge I was pregnant if only for a moment.
But that moment has passed. There is no child in my womb. But I loved that child and I miss that child, although he was never really mine. And I wish I could share that with someone.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
She said it better than I could
I've been trying to pinpoint exactly why having a miscarriage is so hard. In my case, I didn't even know about the baby until it had already started. Sure, I was given a lot of hope by the doctors at the ER and friends, but deep down I knew the pregnancy wasn't viable. And yet, I hoped. I found out my due date (Christmas Day). I imagined how James would look at his little brother or sister.
As women, we fill our lives with what-if's and hypotheticals. We worry about the next meal, the next year, and the next decade all at the same time. For the first time in my life when I go to bed, I don't spend 30 minutes pondering that day and the next and the one after, but only because I am too tired from keeping up with James! Instead my waking hours are spent physically and mentally multi-tasking. I never stop thinking. I never stop planning.
When we went in for our follow-up sonogram, the doctor came over to the hospital to go over the results. She said some thing then that really hit the nail on the head. It really encompassed all the feelings I had been grappling with for the last week, "For women, when that second line comes up, it's not positive. It's an entire future."
That is certainly true. That's why it aches. No matter how bad the situation was last week, I still found myself pondering that future. It was unexpected and surprising, but I was ready for that future.
As women, we fill our lives with what-if's and hypotheticals. We worry about the next meal, the next year, and the next decade all at the same time. For the first time in my life when I go to bed, I don't spend 30 minutes pondering that day and the next and the one after, but only because I am too tired from keeping up with James! Instead my waking hours are spent physically and mentally multi-tasking. I never stop thinking. I never stop planning.
When we went in for our follow-up sonogram, the doctor came over to the hospital to go over the results. She said some thing then that really hit the nail on the head. It really encompassed all the feelings I had been grappling with for the last week, "For women, when that second line comes up, it's not positive. It's an entire future."
That is certainly true. That's why it aches. No matter how bad the situation was last week, I still found myself pondering that future. It was unexpected and surprising, but I was ready for that future.
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