Just for today I hate everyone I know who is pregnant.
And everyone who has gotten pregnant on the first month they tried, or who got pregnant without trying, or who didn’t want to get pregnant but did anyway.
Just for today I hate everyone who has ever taken conception or pregnancy or full-term birth for granted.
I hate everyone who complains about being pregnant.
Everyone who complains about their kids.
Just for today I hate everyone who has never lost a baby, because they do not--cannot--understand.
Because today I’m saying farewell to another baby of mine.
I had hoped that in the next week or so I'd be making an announcement of a different, happier, sort. It's ironic, considering all my recent posts about miscarriage (and at least one more written a while ago but scheduled to post several days hence--because I figured it was better to spread out the posts rather than have them all go up in one week and depress all my readers). But I guess life is like that sometimes.
I never got a positive pregnancy test (it’s hard to get one out here), but I was over a week late and I had lots of symptoms, not to mention that gut feeling of just knowing that I was pregnant. I was ecstatic, although I tried to curb my enthusiasm until I could see those two little lines on a test (one is en route in the mail), but I had no doubt that they would be there. We’d been hoping and trying ever since my fertility returned last fall. The timing could not have been better: our expected moving date would have been in the second trimester (post-morning sickness but pre-enormous belly), and I was due around October 1, the same timing as my first pregnancy 5 years ago. I was looking forward to a healthy and healing pregnancy. I was even starting to think about what animal pseudonym to give this baby when I announced him/her here on the blog.
I suppose the skeptics out there would suggest that I just had a funny cycle and it was a ‘late’ period rather than a pregnancy, but I have a number of reasons for disagreeing with that sentiment, and I am too hormonal and sad to take any unsympathetic comments right now. My eagerly-awaited and much-wanted baby is not mine to keep at this time, and I’m back on the emotional roller coaster of loss.
Every time I posted the story of one of my miscarriages, I wondered how it would have been different if I’d written it at the time it happened, rather than several years after the fact. Well, today I guess I know.
I know there will be other months and other chances, but I wanted this one. Saying goodbye when I’ve scarcely had time to say hello is not as hard as when I’ve had several months to love my baby, but it is still a goodbye. This week I will hug my kids a little bit extra. I will eat too much chocolate and forget to shower and quite possibly leave my hair in the same braid all week. I may spend an entire day in my pajamas…or I may knit 37 rows on Wolf’s sweater. Who knows. But the rest of the world will go on turning, and sooner or later I will have to return to it. I will be different, and the world will neither know nor care.
(and I will be scarce here until my internet gets working again...but I will be back as soon as it is, because outside my Hubby I have no support here, and I need my online friends ♥ )