Sam and I have been holding on to hope, for lack of a better family-friendly word, and it keeps eluding us. I think it bothers me a little more since it mainly concerns my body and how I care for it. I know we haven't been "hoping" for more than 3 or 4 months, but I just felt like it would happen easily. It seems that almost everyone we know had it "happen" by accident, much earlier than expected. Those that didn't have it just "happen," can't. Ever. Their hope is gone. Maybe that's why it bothers me so much. I am afraid that as regular and predictable as I am, I have fallen into this category. To further that anxiety, I feel like this may be some sort of punishment to me. It also reveals a blatant lack of patience that I have and a painful absence of faith.
I have been trying to "eat well" and not participate in activities such as horseback riding. I'm taking vitamins as if they were magic pills. I'm doing my best to keep myself calm. I just don't know what I should and should not be doing at this point.
I know, I know, God is in control. I do believe that, but there is also this very human part of me that thinks I can and wants to influence the outcome. I "try not to think about it." But, really. How can you not? It would be like telling Ralphie in "The Christmas Story" not to think about the possibility of getting a Red Ryder BB gun in the month of December. Just don't stress, Ralphie. Don't worry. Don't be all consumed by thoughts of a BB gun like your Dad and the Leg Lamp. See what'll happen?
I can't put it out of my head right now. Everyone else seems to have just had one. They're coming out of the woodwork... initials embroidered on burp cloths, smocked Feldman Brothers outfits and all. Oh, and mini-Crocs. Don't forget the mini-Crocs. I melt into a puddle of slush when I see them.
I want to whine and cry and cover up with a quilt, eat chocolate and be sad on the couch while watching Oprah and Judge Mathis, but at the same time (especially on a day like today), I feel like I need to buck up and stop being such a baby - truly, no pun intended. It is a little hard not to think about it when your body feels exactly opposite of what you want. It is a throbbing reminder of 4 Advil every 4 hours, or ELSE. And you ladies know what "ELSE" feels like.
I want everyone around me and I want to be alone at the same time. Yes, I am being dramatic, but my hormones are raging like a pregnant woman, except I'm not. I'm "older" than the average mother and Sam and I are not progressing towards youth. I'm so afraid it will never happen. And there is no one who can promise me that it ever will.
All that to say, there's no baby. Again.
Thanks for listening. I'll feel better tomorrow. But don't laugh at me if you see me carrying a sixteen pound cat around in a Baby Bjorn.
5 comments:
Ah . . . this is a toughy. What is the saying about the butterfly? Don't try so hard to catch it? If you are still and patient, it will settle on your shoulder? Something like that. Patience isn't the strong suit of our family. Can't blame it all on me . . . genes come from both sides. It's one of those things that the harder you try, it just doesn't seem to happen. Three months really isn't a long time, even though to you it is. I think I finally decided that worrying too much must change the body chemistry. As soon as we quit .. . poof! Baby. You may think you are old, but from my vast age you are most definitely not! Have a tantrum, some chocolate and advil and feel better tomorrow. Quit going to the dollar store for those tests! (I saw them today) Enjoy your time with your furry family and new husband. Concentrate on that for a while. Not riding pony won't make any difference. Only if you were well into a pregnancy. That sounded very mommyish, but it really is true. I would never laugh and carrying your 16 pounder around makes him very happy. :) Hugs
After the first miscarriage, among the would-be helpful, several women said to me, "I miscarried my third child. I know how you feel." It would PISS me off. "No you don't," I wanted to say. "You HAVE a child. It's not the same." I always felt guilty about that, because loss is loss, and who am I to say how they felt? But you know what? I was right.
Where I am now - after the second miscarriage, having had a baby - is way different. It's not fun, but it's still different. Because I am still doing what I want to do. My life is still moving in the direction I want it to, even if it's not at the pace I had chosen.
Honestly, Michele, where you are is harder.
The only thing that helped me was to put my energy into something I loved. We bought a canoe. I started hiking like it was my JOB. That did help. It didn't make it go away, but it helped.
(PS I know you haven't had a miscarriage - I meant the waiting is harder).
Honey, I have been there (although my cat weighed less). It is awful. People tell you to be patient and you want to deck them. Patient? Patient? When all I think about is whether I am pregnant?
I have posted on this
http://wheelsonthebus.wordpress.com/2007/06/23/happy-30th-birthday/
I know how it feels, but I don't know anything I can say to make it better.
It is true that nobody knows exactly how you feel. Everyone takes all news in a different way. We can only pass on our own experiences and reactions and offer support. It's hard not to rail against something you can't control, waste of energy or not. I do well by wallowing in my misery for a private time, having a good and hearty cry and then trying to move forward. Though I am often just standing in place stomping my feet, eh, I have you to prod me, right? Here is another hug for you.
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