Tuesday, October 15, 2013

What Might Have Been

When my husband asked me to marry him, it was obviously because I was pregnant. There was no other reason for a couple to get engaged after only six months of dating on a quiet, college campus, right? I dealt with the looks and the questions for months. When nine months had passed and there was no baby, we were a month into our life as a married couple. The question of "when are you due?" turned into "When are you having kids?" After four years of putting on a brave "don't fuck with me" smile and answering, "I am a barren wasteland." every time the question came up, I stopped hiding behind the five year plan, and resorted to trying Clomid. I was nervous and scared. I did not want to be faced with the reality that I may indeed be a barren wasteland. 

To my surprise, we achieved pregnancy on the first cycle. My OB was a kind and wise man: he ordered blood work as soon as I could get in. I spent my adoration hours in joyous tears. I saw the heart beat. Around seven weeks, my hormone levels were not increasing at the appropriate speed. I started progesterone shots. At eight weeks, while at a Christmas party, I miscarried. My OB had me go in the following Monday for an ultrasound, and the much wanted and loved speck that had been there a few weeks ago was gone, and all I saw was a big fat zero. I sat in the dark room and cried. Okay, I ugly cried and sobbed for a good fifteen minutes, called my husband, then my supervisor to tell her I wasn't coming to work, and then I ugly cried again. After a while, I gathered my things and put on my "No, I have not been bawling my eyes out, so stop looking at me." face and drove the hour from my doctor's office to my bed. 

Christmas was awful. I was sad, and drunk at times. To be honest, I even peed myself in our truck on one drunk night. I was really sad, and that might be the biggest understatement in the world. I cried every time I was alone. I cried when my OB handed me a bible passage as he shared in our loss and apologized for not being able to help. 

It is hard to know how to feel now. The mourning was constant for awhile, and then we were unexpectedly pregnant the next cycle with our oldest (living) son sans Clomid. I spent the first trimester (and every following first trimester) in a roller coaster of panic, terror, anxiety and joy. Early pregnancy announcements send me into a panic spiral. "What if something happens? Why are they telling everyone now? Don't they know how much it hurts to have to tell everyone when the baby is gone?!"

I think about that baby often. I think about how deeply sad it makes me to have never met my first child, but then it is painful to try to balance that with my love for my oldest child on earth, for I could not have had them both. It is a confusing sort of pain. 

So today, on this day of remembrance, I will think about that first heart beat that I watched on the monitor, and be grateful for the hope and joy that came with it. I will hold my children close: even those I did not get a chance to meet.

1 comment:

  1. This is so beautiful, God bless you! Enjoy the children you are blessed to have here on earth and look forward to the day you will embrace the child you have in heaven. :-)


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