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“As you do not know the path of the wind,
or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb,
so you cannot understand the work of God,
the Maker of all things.”
When I became a blogger, I made the decision to display my life to the world.
I knew there were going to be moments that would be difficult to share, but I also understood that it would be completely unfair of me to solely post my recipes and positive experiences while keeping my darkest moments hidden from view.
Life isn’t always sprinkled with rainbows, butterflies, and Kittles Cattles. So, I have chosen to give y’all a piece of everything rather than a whole lot of nothing.
Plus, I’m a writer.
All writers have dark days.
And writing is the only way to ignite my light.
If you read this post, then you got a bit of an indication that something was amiss last week.
It was more like my entire existence was thrown off kilter.
A few weeks ago (on Mother’s Day to be exact) the hubs and I were thrilled to learn that we were expecting our first little one. It wasn’t necessarily out of the blue, but it also wasn’t really planned either. Back in January, we made the decision to stop preventing rather than to start actively trying to conceive. So, we weren’t surprised that it happened, but we were surprised at how quickly it happened.
To explain my emotions on that day would be like braving a category 5 hurricane. I was pumped full of happiness, scared stupid, crying one minute, and laughing the next. I was a torrential tornado of emotions.
So, after facing the fact that a tiny human being-a little angel designed by pure joy and true love-was actually growing inside of me, I finally felt as if I had accomplished something in my life. I immediately held my head a little higher, smiled a bit bigger, and felt a desperate drive to survive.
First things first, I told my family and best friends (I can NOT keep a secret). I borrowed books, worried about anything and everything that went into my body, stopped changing the cat litter, and was fueled by the small ember of happiness that had started glowing within my heart.
I had an incredible sense of relief:
Relief that I was a 30 something with no apparent fertility issues.
Relief that God hadn’t punished me for my teenage angst by making me barren.
Relief that our child would be close in age to all of his/her cousins, and would probably be held by not one, not two, not three, but FOUR of his/her great grandparents.
Relief that my biggest wish in life may actually come true.
That’s when the spotting began.
At first, I wasn’t very worried. I’d read on message boards that spotting was completely normal. Especially if it wasn’t bright red.
It wasn’t at all, but after two days I decided to call my OB just to be sure.
I was told to come in the following morning for an ultrasound.
Never in my life have I been more terrified. All night, I continually read posting after posting after posting of girls who had the same symptoms as me who then went on to deliver fat and healthy bundles of love.
The next morning, I was surprisingly calm. I was a wee bit nauseated which I took to be a very good sign.
That was the only good sign of the day.
On the way to my appointment, my mom got a flat tire at the busiest intersection in town.
Then I had to postpone my ultrasound another 3 hours.
Then I had to take Weasley to the vet.
Then I had to call and report a drunk driver (it was 11:30am).
Then the vet quoted me $550 to run some tests that may or may not help them figure out what was wrong with my cat.
Then I got hit on at the gas station by a redneck.
Then I was told I was being coded as a “threatened abortion”, and I was given no hope.
Then the vet told me they weren’t sure what was wrong with Weas.
Then I went home.
Then my mom lost her keys, and my dad had to come pick her up.
Then the hubs got home.
Then I went to the bathroom and saw bright red.
Then the realization of my Drs diagnoses hit me.
Then my life changed.
Then my soul was shattered.
I was not at all prepared for the deep sense of loss I would feel when it finally hit me that I was no longer pregnant. Yes, I knew how likely it was that a miscarriage could happen (and that it happens quite a bit), but I didn’t know that it would hurt as much as it does.
I am completely devastated.
I feel like a lost sheep with black unblinking eyes.
I don’t know which way to turn.
I don’t see my guiding light.
I’m trying very hard to make sense of it all, and I’m trying very hard to continually tell myself that everything happens for a reason. I’m trying to keep myself busy, giving me absolutely no chance to have time to think. I’m trying to keep myself from falling into a pit of despair. I’m forcing myself to eat. I’m forcing myself to get out of bed. I’m forcing myself to…exist.
I do not know why God took our baby away from us.
I do not know if I ever will.
But what I do know is this…
I have an amazing husband who loves me for me.
I have an incredibly fantastic family who will always be by my side.
I have amazing best friends who are the cornerstones of my life.
I have a successful blog that helps me get my feelings off of my chest.
I have readers who care about my well being.
I have the ability to get pregnant.
And when the hurt has healed and the time is right…I have the desire to one day try again.
Getting to Know You…
How do you deal with loss?
Do you have any kids?
How did you begin to heal?