Saturday, October 15, 2011

Un-happy anniversary (warning, sad miscarriage related)

Today is a blue day. Four years ago today was the worst day of my life.

Hubby and I had been trying to have a baby for almost a year and not having much luck. When we finally had a positive pregnancy test, I was delighted. There was a lot of stress and turmoil going on at the time and this was a bright light in an otherwise dark time. I started spreading the news, and was crazy excited.

(Don't read this next paragraph if you're fragile)

And then October 15th came. I went to work that morning, bubbling with my secret, wishing I could tell people at work. And then I went to the bathroom and saw spotting. I told myself it was ok, lots of women have that and it's fine. I googled it and started to get scared. Way more bad outcomes than good. I called Hubby and told him and he said he wanted to come pick me up and go to the hospital. I went to the bathroom again while I was waiting and this time I saw what I now know was my baby. But I was still in denial and hopeful that it would all be ok. This was something that happens to other people, not me. Not when this baby was so wanted.  A few hours later, after waiting, cramping, and bleeding more and more, I was seen by the doctors and ultrasound department and they confirmed that my baby was gone.

I fell apart. I knew that miscarriages happened, but never considered it might happen to me. I was feeling every emotion all at once. Sadness, anger, jealousy, hopelessness. I could not be in the same room with pregnant people, or even people with small kids. I felt like I would never have that.

Normally when something bad happens to me, I am able to find a lesson from it. I needed to learn humility, or to be more independent, or that I am stronger than I thought, or to be more patient. I searched and searched for the lesson I needed to learn from this, and I just could not see it. Wasn't a year of infertility enough of a test to teach me patience? Didn't starting my life over again and learning to be alone and support myself teach me to be strong and independent? Didn't trying to conceive and failing teach me I wasn't in control of my entire life? Didn't I learn to be less jealous when I had to smile and congratulate friends on their pregnancies when I couldn't have that? Losing my dog unexpectedly was traumatic and taught me to deal with loss and grief. My wedding was stressful enough. I'd already lived through tight finances and impossible deadlines. I didn't NEED any more lessons. I racked my brain to try to see the good I would take away from this loss and I was unable to see it.

Two months later I was pregnant again. And this time I didn't tell as many people right away. This time I was cautious. This time I respected it and cherished every second of it, not knowing if it might be my last. This baby was even more wanted than the first one had been, and I spent a lot of time in fear that I would lose this one, even after he was safely born.

When he was 9 months old, I was pregnant again, this time a complete surprise. Now, I have two amazing, wonderful boys that call me Mommy and I can't imagine life without either of them.

The lesson hit me just recently. If I hadn't lost that baby, if things hadn't unfolded the way they did, I wouldn't have my boys. My wonderful, special, perfect boys. And that would be horrible.

On the day that would have been my first baby's due date, I went off alone to a park. I wanted to just walk, and be alone, and cry. The whole time I was there, a robin was flying around, following me along the pathway and to a playground where I sat for a while with my tears. I named my angel Robin that day. And we've had a robin living in our yard in both houses we've lived in since then. I like to think it's her.

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