For the past year Mark and I have been trying to get/stay pregnant. With that has come many emotions, thoughts, and revelations. Maybe too many to share. Certainly some that are almost impossible to explain in the four walls of a text box. I’ve started this post so many times. Stopped. Deleted. Mostly because who really cares? What does writing it down change? But in the end I just feel like I need to get it out. Even if I never actually hit “PUBLISH”. Although I probably will because, let’s face it, I’m an over sharer.
The regret. Every day I open that door. The one I KNOW I’m not suppose to. But it’s bright and it’s right there. Why did we wait so long? When I was 25 I thought I was pregnant. Mark and I decided that we would keep it and we were beaming. The best things are usually unplanned. But of course the day after floating on such a grand decision gravity pulled us back down with those first spots of my period. It took longer than I thought it would for us to get married. And then longer than I expected for us to decide to try to get pregnant. I didn’t want the start of our family to halt my occupational pursuit. But instead I let the opposite happen when really, it was unnecessary. I’m embarrassed and frankly really mad that I held this belief that a women with a growing belly and family was a wet blanket in the workplace. Now I’m approached 30 and It’s a pet peeve when people say things like “I have no regrets”. I have many and I accept them. This is one.
Early on I decided that I was not going to let other friends getting pregnant wreck me. Over and over again I read things like “allow yourself to be hurt” or “I was so angry when my best friend told me that she was pregnant that I hung up on her”, and “try to spend more time with your childless friends”. That’s just not me. I take great pride in being a good friend. Life has given me several chances to test just that. OF COURSE it stung when one of my dearest friends told me she was pregnant. And OF COURSE I wince every time I scroll past a sonogram on my feed. But I choose to think of every fertile soul that’s a part of my life as good luck. And so I smile through the pain and before I know it I’m smiling for realzies.
The idea that every bad situation has hidden blessings makes my eyes roll waaaay back into my head. Yet I can’t deny that this has been a big part of the journey. A year ago I would not have called Mark my best friend. I would not have found peace each morning through meditation. And I certainly would not have made orgasmic noises over the taste of runny egg yolk. The five weeks of pregnancy and the hard yolks that it brought with it gave me a new appreciation for my favorite breakfast food. Guided meditations (omg, the eye rolling), as ridiculous as it sounds, is what calmed my fiercest emotions. Through the sobbing I found a way to put my deepest insecurities into words to share with my partner. Something that would have come out before as just shear anger. I had to learn to lean on Mark and Mark alone for my support in this. He has proven to be pretty darn sturdy.
The waiting is the worst. This has been the longest year, the longest month, the longest day. It took eight months for a positive pregnancy test. Eight months of staring at a calendar. Logging every temperature, mood, and body fluid. Five long weeks of being pregnant. Feeling a fullness I never knew I was missing. Spending every spare moment and brain cell to plan for this little life inside me. Five long hours miscarrying that precious child. And now three long months of waiting until we can start it all over.