I reeeally debated posting this. It was a pretty weird weekend; I was a hot mess of emotions. I actually told Craig last night that I was feeling so much, I literally didn’t know what to do with myself. I spent a good part of Sunday crying, followed by utter frustration, followed by more tears, followed by guilt, more tears, etc, etc. You get the idea.
Our first baby’s due date was this week.
This the last post I plan to write on the loss we experienced this year. I hope that what I’ve shared doesn’t lead anybody to believe that I’m dwelling or looking for sympathy. Truth is, I’m in a good place with it – the last few days have certainly been exception to the norm. But, maybe someone, somewhere will read this and know that what they’re feeling isn’t wrong – or that they aren’t the only one. I know that finding things others have written has helped me feel more “normal,” in the times I didn’t know what to make of myself.
I don’t doubt there will be more raw moments this week, but otherwise, my thoughts and energy are being poured into preparing for our second little baby due in December.
On Wednesday, I will be 29 weeks. Making it to 28 weeks means that if my baby boy was born today, he would likely survive; 90% of babies born 28 weeks or later will live. This is huge for me mentally.
I had someone ask me recently if I’ve enjoyed being pregnant. The answer? No. I haven’t enjoyed being pregnant.
My pregnancy isn’t what I imagined it would be. Don’t give me wrong, I’m eternally grateful that I’ve had a healthy pregnancy. Outside of about a week of nausea, I’ve felt like a million bucks. I’m at peace with all the change happening to my body. I’ve continued to sleep pretty well. And my hormones have kept themselves in check…for the most part anyway!
But, it hasn’t been an easy pregnancy. Not at all.
For many weeks, I couldn’t articulate why I felt how I felt. And one night, it just hit me – while the physical aspects of pregnancy have been “easy,” the emotional part has chewed me up and spit me back out.
So, you may wonder if this means if I’m excited for bumpster’s arrival. At first? I wasn’t. Instead, I lived in constant fear. To be honest, I couldn’t imagine his arrival, because it didn’t seem possible. I couldn’t see past my fear of history repeating itself. And when my body first started changing and I experienced ligament pain or cramping, I went off the deep end. In the first 16 weeks, I cried…a lot. I was just waiting for the nightmare to start all over again.
Thank goodness for excellent therapists. And for people like Michelle that can so bravely articulate exactly how I’ve felt.
Michelle was featured on the Baby Center blog with a post called, “Coping with miscarriage anxiety after a loss.” I couldn’t even tell my husband about it without sobbing.
As time has passed, it’s certainly gotten better. Hearing his strong heartbeat, seeing his hiccups on the ultrasound, and the look on my husband’s (and sister’s!) face when he felt our baby boy for the first time – it’s all brought so much joy and excitement. And in recent weeks, I actually find myself enjoying this whole pregnancy gig.
Our first child’s due date was this week. That realization has hit me a lot harder than I could’ve imagined. I expect to feel sad. Angry. Confused. Because while I remain excited about our baby boy, I still have a child that I never got to meet. And that’s really hard to accept.
Today, I’m grateful for my rainbow baby due to join us in December – but am reminded that nothing in life is ever a guarantee.