Tuesday, November 13, 2012

"Try again."

Last week seems like such a blur - that's probably due in part to the heavy meds I've been on, but all in all, I don't feel like I missed too much.  I was able to take several days off from work and I'm really thankful for that.

I broke the news of the miscarriage to Emily on Monday night while she was helping make dinner.  I wanted to wait till she was home for the week to tell her so she'd have all the opportunities for questions and much-needed comfort.

I think having to tell her made things seem much more real.  It's almost like I wasn't allowing myself to feel anything, except when I was alone in my bed, waiting for the medications to sweep me off to sleep each night.  - But that afternoon was different, I gave myself permission to cry in front of her...  and it wasn't really by choice...  It just happened - as soon as I started telling her the results of the final ultrasound, I choked up and it all came out.

She just stood there, staring at me.  I saw genuine concern in her face and tears began to well up in her big brown eyes, but she didn't cry.  She just maintained eye contact, and nodded her head in response to the things I said.

I assured her that I was okay.  - That it wasn't because of anything I did or anyone did to me.  - That sometimes these things happen.  I told her it was okay to be sad and that she could ask as many questions as she needed to.  - I told her the doctor said we needed to wait a couple of months and then we could try again.  - And to that she asked, "But will you try again, Mommy?"  - How does she do that?  She knows me so well, it's scary.

It's no secret that I've been very unsure about the whole having another baby thing.  I've been so wishy-washy.  Even after I found out I was pregnant again there were days I was super happy and excited about it.  - And then there were days where I wondered if it was such a great idea after all.

This was the first time in my life where the fact that I was late getting my period wasn't an "Oh, shit" moment.  I'm a grown, responsible adult.  I've managed to raise one amazing child already.  I'm happily married.  My husband has always wanted children.  We have a roof over our heads.  - And we are both gainfully employed.  It all adds up in the positive, right?  I mean, that's a Grade A spawning situation, right?  - But there I was second-guessing every little thing.

I'm beginning to wonder if it's just me.  Am I non-committal about the things most women my age aren't non-committal about?

With all the complications I had with this pregnancy from the get-go, I can honestly say I was half expecting this outcome.  I had been mentally preparing myself for this loss since my last spotting episode about 3 weeks prior.  Even the morning before I went for my last ultrasound, I told a friend that I wouldn't be completely devastated or surprised if I miscarried.

After my ultrasound, I knew the bad news even before my doctor came to deliver it.  I watched the tech take measurements and scan for the heartbeat several times, unsuccessfully.  I recognized how my doctor assessed my demeanor and emotional state when he entered.  - Despite the news, I managed to remain pretty well-composed as we discussed the pros & cons of having a D&C procedure and our options in regards to spawning post-surgery.  I didn't allow myself to cry until I was in my car, calling my husband on the phone. 

There it was.  No more baby.  The heartbreak was real and much deeper than I could have ever imagined.  - And surprisingly, I was devastated despite my earlier proclamation to my friend.

When you're the one trying to process all of this, it's easy to believe that you'll be the only one affected.  But as soon as I heard Alan's voice, I quickly realized how wrong I was.  My heart was breaking not only for me and the loss of the baby, but for Alan and Emily too.

My only regret is that I didn't realize how much I really wanted that baby until my choice in the matter was completely taken away from me.  I wish I had been more present and less worrisome.

Emily has handled everything like the champ that she is.  She sporadically asks me questions when it's just her and I - and if she thinks of a question when Alan is around, she politely shoos him away.

As of now, our intention is to try again.  - Like I said before, I am giving myself all of next year to indulge in the idea of becoming a parent all over again.  - If it happens, it happens.  - If it doesn't, hey, at least we tried and we still have one amazing daughter to keep us plenty occupied.

We're going to take our time healing from this heartbreak.  - Start living healthier and trying to be more active.  - Get through the holidays.  - And we'll probably officially start trying again in February or March.

In the meantime, I'll try to keep reminding myself of this:  "If at first you don't succeed, dust yourself off and try again... try again."