The elephant in the room. In my head.
February 14, 2013 § 9 Comments
You guys don’t know me all that well yet, but one thing you will learn as we go on is that I’m a pretty content person. I’m generally happy. I’m anxious, yes. But one can be a joyful worrier, I believe. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Sure, I have down days. I wallow on occasion. (You’ve seen it here.) Sometimes I get envious of other people, especially other women, when they are cooler or smarter or wittier or more talented that I am. I lament (not just lentils but also) things like the fact that I carry weight in my hips and thighs and not in my boobs.
But I think these things are fairly normative. And when it comes down to it, I consider myself happy. Content for sure. Even lucky in a lot of ways (not involving my womb).
But lately I’ve been feeling something scratching at that wall of contentment, trying to break through. And last week, I figured out what that little sharp-clawed thing is.
If you’ve poked around on this blog–the little corner of my inner world I’ve chosen to share with others–you know that I’ve experienced pregnancy loss. Yes, it was early. Yes, the miscarriage completed itself without complication. I was “lucky.” And, according to my RE and many of the close friends we chose to tell, at least I know I can get pregnant.
But I had symptoms. I felt pregnant. I was pregnant. And then it was gone. And that is heartbreaking.
Y’all. If I hadn’t lost that baby, I would be 20 weeks and 5 days today. I’d be more than halfway through. I would be showing. My baby would be about 10 inches long. About the length of a carrot or a banana. I might know the sex if we had chosen to do that. We might have a name picked out. We might have baby-related things beginning to gather in the basement for impending use.
Instead, I have none of those things. I’m no closer now than I was when I started this process.
Sure, I’ve gained some things from this journey:
1) a closer, more emotionally intimate relationship with the Artsy Engineer,
2) astonishing knowledge about the female body and procreation, and
3) a new community of kindred women.
But this is not what I want this week. This week, probably because it would be the halfway point, I’ve been plagued by the woulda coulda shouldas. They’re lurking, scratching at my typically high spirits. Behind the scenes but making waves.