December 3, 2009
December the 3rd
Nine months ago, I was full of promise. For the last seven months, I’ve carried a mother’s silent grief. Sorrow is a funny thing; it never seems to leave completely, but ebbs like the tides. Time has eased the pain, but some days are still hard to bear. I have not forgotten about the little life we lost too early.
Today is your birthday; a day we’ll postpone inevitably, with no set date to anticipate. But we do anticipate meeting you on that great reunion day. You will be truly perfect. And you will never know sadness or pain, imagine! How I selfishly wish that I could hold you sooner. You were here and you were loved.
October 21, 2009
Year in Review
This week marks one year of trying for a second baby. We have reached the textbook definition of infertility: the inability of a healthy couple to conceive within a year. I just read that 85% of pregnancies are unplanned. This percentage spurred my desire to run my own analysis. Although I’m not a numbers person, I thought these figures put things in perspective.
Number of women I know who have miscarried: 20 (most I never knew about until my experience)
Number of women from above figure who have gone on to deliver healthy babies: 16
Number of women I know who have had babies born in the last year: 22
Number of women currently pregnant with whom I have contact: 11
Number of women I know who are also trying to conceive at this time: 5
Number of dollars spent on pregnancy and OPK tests: $150
Chance of miscarrying after seeing a heartbeat: 4-5%
Age our baby would be if we had conceived last October: 3 months
Number of weeks until my due date had I not miscarried: 6
Number of people supporting us and prayers said on our behalf: countless
September 25, 2009
Minus
There’s got to be a lot of people out there hoping for that
single line.
The one that lets them forgo nausea, sleepless nights,
lullabies.
Maybe that high school girl, one night stander or
mother of five.
Not me.
No amount of wishing, praying or the world’s best
imagination
has made that second line appear.
Injustice, indeed.
July 29, 2009
Rant
Why is it all the stupid things happen in one afternoon and you can’t even bring yourself to print one appropriate swear word?
The pregnancy didn’t stick around but the 10 pounds did (along with many others gained through months of carefree, blissful eating over the last 5 years).
After a week of eating next to nothing, I only lost 1.2 pounds. This reality threw me over the edge. Storming home, I angrily declined my husband’s offer to join him at the Mexican restaurant, because really, who wants to go out to eat for half a chip, a bite of salsa and two bites of beans? (How dare he even ask!?) While pulling brown rice from the refrigerator, I spilled a cupful of peach raspberry Crystal Light on myself, the insides of the fridge and the floor. Worst of all, was the fact that it seeped into a bowl of pasta salad I’d made earlier that day.
And no, I don’t want a hug, even though yes I am crying and obviously upset. I proceed with a dramatic monologue of how at this rate it will “only” take me 10 months to reach a goal rate that is still heavier than I’d like to be and probably I’ll just keep getting pregnant and keep miscarrying over and over again anyway. And how would you like it if your two handfuls of sesame seeds took up half a days worth of points? Hmm?
Then the cleaning frenzy began with the dishes being unloaded and reloaded at a dangerous speed, the knife block wiped down, and the edges of the stove attacked with a toothpick.
I’m crying because it’s nearly 100 degrees outside and I spent too long sitting by the wading pool, because I’m fat and I love to eat which I can no longer happily do, because I barely lost anything after a week of near deprivation, because the next door neighbor’s daughter is 5 months pregnant (the same that I would be), because another friend is due in December, because I keep getting my period, because I’m sick of trying to get pregnant. Because it’s unfair that girls who don’t want babies are the ones getting pregnant, that miscarriages don’t happen to people who want abortions, that my little girl loves her friend’s baby sister, that I can’t go to sleep most nights without replaying the day we found out you had died. Because I hate knowing that you are gone.
May 23, 2009
What to Expect When You’re Not Expecting
Someone congratulated me today. It was awkward for both of us when I smiled and said, “um actually…”
I would have been 12 weeks by now and into the second trimester: the “safe zone” as far as miscarriages go.
At my follow-up appointment with the doctor this week, she said that 20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage and that after the first trimester the percent goes down to 3 and never really changes. Of course once you see a heart beat you are, in her words, “feeling pretty good about the pregnancy.”
Yeah, I was feeling pretty good about it. The right word is actually grateful. We’ve never questioned whether or not we would add another child to our family. When we decided the time was right, I was ready to be pregnant right now. Instead five months went by before we got a BFP (big fat positive) as they call it on the community pregnancy boards.
Now I have a closet full of maternity clothes just hanging there. I’ve reshelved all the pregnancy books that I’d pulled out of boxes. I’ve started doing ab workouts again (not that they are making a difference) and I sat in the hot tub today. I can eat all the feta I want. My life has returned to pre-pregnancy normal.
And yet it’s not normal anymore. I was pregnant and we did lose a child. My next pregnancy will be my third, not my second and I won’t be innocently happy.
What can you expect when you’re not expecting? Expect that friends and family will support you and lift you up. Expect to question God and the fairness of your loss. Expect to find yourself a member of a community of women you never knew existed or never truly understood before.
Know that despite your best efforts, sadness, anger, and envy will fight their way to the surface. I try to fight them back with hope. I try to keep expecting the best.
May 10, 2009
Missing
I’m not a medical expert, but I think they call it a missed miscarriage simply because of all the things you miss. I’ll miss my belly growing rounder and the feel of your kicks. We missed knowing your gender, though I think you were a boy. We missed seeing your precious profile on the ultrasound, missed watching you float and flail in your watery world, and missed the excitement of your entrance into ours. Mostly I miss the idea of Hannah having a sibling, though she still wasn’t sure about you. Ours arms will miss the weight of your soft shape and the snuggle of your smooth skin. We will never know the sound of your voice, your baby smell, your smile or your laugh. No birthdays to celebrate on the 3rd of December, no first Christmas when you were just a few weeks old (not unlike the Christ child himself). No tiny baby outfits stuck to the sides of our washing machine like doll clothes. No hauling out the baby gear, the baby toys and bracing for sleepless nights. No rocking, nursing, singing.
We had barely fallen in love before you were gone. My belly literally aches from your absence, but that will heal. My heart will ache forever. We will always be missing you.
