This is going to sound crazy to…well, everyone, but sometimes I forget I’m not pregnant. I know that I was “only” pregnant for 9 days (that I knew of anyway) but sometimes I find myself having thoughts that I had during my short pregnancy.
Whenever I get a headache, I remind myself that I cannot take Excedrin and only Tylenol…until I remember.
Whenever I want a second cup of coffee, I tell myself that I shouldn’t because of the baby…until I remember.
Whenever I have the urge to take a hot bath, I tell myself I can’t…until I remember.
Whenever I feel like having a glass of wine with dinner, I remind myself that I can’t…until I remember.
I also occasionally think about baby names and visit baby related websites.
It seems so crazy to me that I can temporarily forget when it also consumes so many of my thoughts. The mind acts in crazy ways, I guess.
So, here’s to tonight. I’m NOT pregnant, so I’m relaxing with a glass of wine as I wait for the husby to get home. And guess what? It’s not even dinner time yet.
I randomly came across a blog today and found something that spoke to me so clearly. This blog documents one couple’s struggles with infertility and while I’ve only begun reading, I can already tell that it is going to be a great source of comfort for me. Now, I’m not sure if I can even say that David and I are struggling with infertility, as I know we have only been trying for six months, but it is one of my biggest fears.
Below is an excerpt that really jumped out at me.
Understand if you are pregnant that I may need some space. Especially if it happened so quickly and you can’t empathize with what I’m going through. It’s nothing against you personally, it’s just hard for me to be around you a lot right now because you’re a constant reminder that I don’t have what I would give anything for. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so incredibly happy for you that you are on your path to motherhood and I wish you nothing but the best but the constant pregnancy talk and growing belly is a painful reminder that I’m not there yet.
I felt guilty when I read this, and in fact, I’ve felt guilty for the past 14 days (has it really been two weeks since the first day of the miscarriage?) One of my best friends is pregnant right now. In fact, we both got our positive pregnancy test on the same day. Our estimated due dates were only a few days apart. I simply cannot put into words the conflicting feelings this causes.
Following the start of the miscarriage, there were a few days when I was a complete zombie, and I barely talked to anyone, let alone her. We are co-workers and spend a lot of time together (we were even voted teacher BFFs by the student body for the teacher superlatives) and while I didn’t want to avoid her, it was–and still is–painful to see her knowing that her tiny baby was still growing inside of her belly and that mine was not. With every day that goes by, I think to myself that however far along she is, that is how far along I’d be right now if I wouldn’t have miscarried. It’s painful and it sucks, and I know it’s okay to feel this way–hello, 7 stages of grief!–yet I feel such extreme guilt over these feelings. I want to be happy for her; I AM happy for her, but I’m so sad for myself at the same time.
I honestly cannot imagine my life without this person, and she has forever changed me and my life. She KNOWS me; she GETS me; and we have so many eerie similarities and commonalities that we both joke about how it was our fate to meet at CHS. The feeling of joy I felt when she told me “Okay, so I’m pregnant” cannot be described, because I had a secret, too. I was pregnant, too. And when she told me that she found out just the day before (the same day as me), our friendship was reconfirmed in such a special way.
But now we don’t share that. We won’t share that. Even if I get pregnant again soon and we go through part of this journey together, it won’t be the same.
But…I have to be okay with that, and I will be. It’s just going to take some time.
I think today was the first time I laughed since all this has happened. It felt good…really good. It was at lunch and some of my co-workers and I were talking about poop (which is totally not a good topic to talk about at lunch, but it happens.) Oddly enough, the only male in the room was the most bothered by our conversation.
On a different topic, on the way home from school today, I heard two different Brad Paisley songs on two different radio stations. The first one was the song that David and I danced to at our wedding: Brad Paisley’s “Then.” At the exact moment I turned to this radio station, the line starting with “I can just see you with a baby on the way” started and I just broke down in tears. The song continued and I heard: “We’ll look back some day at this moment that we’re in / and I’ll look at you and say and I thought I loved you then.” I thought about David and reminded myself how lucky we are to have each other. I can honestly say that there is no person in this world who knows me better than he does. I can’t imagine a more perfect person for me, and though tears were still streaming down my face, I smiled a bit at the end of the song.
I switched radio stations (not because I was crying, but because this one went to commercial) and I don’t remember what song was on when I turned it. After that song ended, though, ANOTHER Brad Paisley song started, and this one really got me going. It was his song “Anything Like Me” and this song I caught from the beginning.
“I remember sayin’ I don’t care either way / Just as long as he or she is healthy I’m ok / Then the doctor pointed to the corner of the screen /And said “Ya see that thing right there well ya know what that means”/ And I started wondering who he was going to be / And I thought heaven help us if he’s anything like me / He’ll probably climb a tree too tall and ride he’s bike too fast / End up every summer wearin something in a cast / He’s gonna throw a ball and break some glass in a window down the street / He’s gonna get in trouble oh hes gonna get in fights / I’m gonna lose my temper and some sleep/ It’s safe to say that I’m gonna get my pay back if he’s anything like me”
David and I have joked about this song before, especially when we think about the possibility of having a boy. It’s not that David was a BAD kid growing up (I mean how bad can you be when you have adorable dimples and a flat top?) but he definitely caused a raucous and I would win the “who was a better kid” category hands down.
While it was difficult listening to those two songs, it helped me cope in a way, too. While I’m sure I looked ridiculous to anyone who saw me driving in my car, I’m glad I didn’t change the radio stations, as I could have easily done.
And now…off to do some yoga, even though I would much rather climb in bed with a book.
I am writing this exactly one week after the first post on this blog. Even though I haven’t shared this blog with anyone yet, I hope to be able to share it someday. I contemplated deleting the whole thing, but I decided against it.
Needless to say, a lot has happened in the past week. Part of me is telling me that I shouldn’t be talking about this at all, but the other part of me wants to scream it out to the world. We’ve decided not to tell anyone this for a number of reasons, and as hard as it is for me to type this (maybe because that is what makes it real), I had a miscarriage. I was terrified of this from the start, which is part of the reason why we were waiting to tell people we were pregnant in the first place. I only knew I was pregnant for 9 days, but that doesn’t make this any easier. I have a whole new respect and compassion for any woman (or couple for that matter) who has had to experience this. No one–not your mom, not your sister, not your best friend–truly knows what it is like unless she’s been through it.
Prior to this experience, I knew what a miscarriage was: a non-viable pregnancy. I understood what it meant, and I knew that it wasn’t the mother’s fault, but I didn’t really KNOW. I didn’t know the physical and emotional pain involved (especially the physical) and selfishly, whenever I had heard about people having miscarriages, I never thought much about it. I know that makes me sound like an awful person; I’m sure it does, especially because I’VE HAD FRIENDS GO THROUGH THIS. Whenever I heard of such news, I felt sad for the person, but I didn’t put that much thought into it. I never knew how it could really affect a person. My thoughts are now forever changed. It is big deal and “sad” doesn’t even begin to describe how it feels.
I will not go into the details of how this all came about, especially because I had some other complications which involved more than one trip to the hospital and a lot of unexpected bills, but I am trying to think positively about the upcoming months. It took David and I over six months to get that first positive pregnancy test, but I know we’ll get another one in the future, and I can only hope that it is sooner rather than later. I’m trying not to feel like my body is ruined, though I have had those thoughts. I know it wasn’t my fault. I know there is nothing that I can do. However, I also know that I was able to get pregnant once, and that I will again. Right now, I’m holding on to that hope.
I haven’t been myself, and I’ve been trying to hide at work, so I don’t have to come into contact with too many people–which let’s face it, is impossible. This plan has kind of worked–I’ve just been hanging out in my classroom a lot–but people are still noticing me being quieter than usual. When asked, I try to dodge questions, but I know it is probably still showing through. If you are one of those people who have asked or if you are one of those people who have noticed, I appreciate your concern, and I hope you understand why I couldn’t talk about it at the time.
I feel broken and right now I am just taking it one day at a time. That’s all I can do, and I know that tomorrow is closer to that next pregnancy than today. This, while small, does provide me with some comfort.