I am somewhat of a closet writer. I've always loved writing, but I've never been super faithful at keeping up on it, until something memorable happens, and usually memorable in the bad way. The week of June 26th, 2005 is probably the best documented week of my life. As is early August, 2008. My marriage to the love of my life? Not so much. It was more important, but I write to deal with the bad times. The good times, I just enjoy. My great great grandchildren, who I'm sure will have nothing better to do than read my depressing journals, will think their grandmama's life was horrendous.
When we found out, a week before our anniversary that I was expecting - we were so excited. Chris has been wanting to be a dad as long as I've known him, but it took me some time to decide I was willing to take on the responsibility of motherhood. However, once I decide something, I am all in. No going back. It was all I could do not to tell everyone, and let's be honest, pretty soon a lot of people knew. Especially when nausea kicked in - how do you hide that from a coworker? Plus, being married in Provo, every other day you get asked if you're pregnant. But there's a huge taboo about telling people before 8-12 weeks "just in case," but as Alison said, "Just because something could go wrong, doesn't mean you walk into it with the expectation that it will go wrong." And it changed my perspective on the whole situation. It was wonderful, and the next 7 weeks I could not wait for this baby, for the doctor's appt, for the heartbeat...
At 9 weeks, we should see this:
But instead, we saw this:
And then the nurse said, "I'm going to have to get the doctor, this isn't a usual ultrasound. We're going to have to do an internal ultrasound, so you'll need to undre-" I have NEVER taken my pants off so fast. And I am a married woman. Who has gotten pregnant. 2+2=4. The doctor then confirmed our worst fears, and we...well. I'm not pregnant anymore.
Of course, by then, all family knew, as well as close friends, and let's talk about awkward conversations. "How's your pregnancy going??" "Oh. Uh. I'm not pregnant anymore." Then they feel awful, and you don't want them to feel awful because how could they have known? It's flattering for others to be so excited for something that is exciting to you. The worst is that our landlord told his old tenants that, "One of my tenants is expecting, so they're moving closer to campus..." and they asked on speakerphone if The Bicks were pregnant while we were at the neighbor's for dinner. Well, as they had just announced their pregnancy, it would have been bad form to admit that we were, but no more. So we lied. And were happy for them. I pretended, because I am a bad person, and can't be that excited for myself anymore. Call me selfish, but it's still fresh.
It's just that - with this baby gone, my plans are now shattered. We cancelled our plans to work in Alaska for the summer, because I would be due the week we come home. Not happening. Either situation would have gotten me out of my miserable job, and I now see no end in sight, which depresses and frustrates me. Depending on the kind of miscarriage, we may have to wait 6 months-1 year to try again. Even less end in sight. The hell of it all is that, as this pregnancy progressed, I felt more and more that this is what I was made for. I was going to be a mother, and I am going to be the best damn mother on earth. I like doing hair, I love working with families and making lives better - but to create life? And then raise it? I realized that there could be literally no better calling.
I realize that miscarriages happen every day. To thousands of women. I realize that some women cannot even conceive. My amazing friend who I have talked with about this will probably read this, and I pray it does not add to her pain. But I also believe that pain is pain, and there will always be someone who is worse off than you. That does not mean you cannot feel and express your pain for the reality it is to you. We all deserve the chance to be heard, and empathized with.
I wrote this to express myself in a way I haven't been able to. I have a lot of hope for what is to come, but it still hurts now, and that is what I wanted to share. Publishing it was iffy. I've decided to because I think that when you can share pain, it can make you a catalyst for good things to happen. Relationships can form that normally wouldn't have, others can feel like they are understood, and not alone in their pain. I read earlier this week that, "unlike cancer, baby loss is still a taboo subject." I think it shouldn't be.
I wrote this for the sole purpose of being honest about my feelings, to myself, and now to you. I hope it is received in the same way.
Note: I do not own either of these images. They can be found on the first pages of Google image search by searching "9 week ultrasound" and "molar pregnancy"