So I guess I need to write a follow up to this post. As you can tell from my lack of enthusiasm, a
cute little photo-reveal and general poopy attitude towards everything baby,
we are not pregnant. An emoti-con seems appropriate here and really really trivial at the same time.
we are not pregnant. An emoti-con seems appropriate here and really really trivial at the same time.
I have been reluctant to write about this here because;
well honestly I don’t have a complete sentence to offer you. I have a lot of feelings and feeling words to
offer up. Sad. Disappointed.
Failure. Let down. Angry.
Sad. Delayed. Unfulfilled. Did I mention sad?
Seriously the sadness is what is baffling to me. It can hit me like a ton of bricks out of
nowhere. I was in Target and caught a glimpse
of a baby clothes on sale. All I can think is, well I guess I don’t need to worry
about that right now. There is a girl in
my office that is pregnant and she is starting to show. I heard that there is another girl pregnant. I force the “so excited for you” face but all
I think is, what about me? How selfish
is that? Don’t answer that. I know it is, but luckily it’s just in my
head and I have not yet stolen someone’s baby out of sadness and desperation.
My head understands that this is the right thing to do
right now. But logic
will never combat your heart and trump feelings; especially when your heart is
broken. I know that there are way more
things that could make this situation seem significantly small. I know that this is not the door shutting but
just an extension of the hallway to the next door. And as Juanito and I have somewhat argued
over, it’s not the end of the chapter or even the book (we have always spoken
in metaphors well). It just feels that
way to me.
On my last Mother’s Day as a non-mother, Schmacey gave me a charm and statue of Saint
Gerard. He is, according to the
diocese, the patron saint of infertility, of pregnant women, and mothers. I wore his medal and placed the statue in a place
of honor in our home. I read his prayer
card. A month later I found out I was
pregnant with The Boy. So when we
started this journey back in July, I busted out my St. Gerard charm and started
wearing it. After six months and
nothing, I’m starting to think that the mantel over the fireplace is not a
place of honor anymore. I stopped
wearing him. I still have him with
me. I give thanks for The Boy and pray
for another little miracle. But I can’t
keep wearing the necklace. It is too
hard for me. Every time the charms got
caught between my boobs it was a reminder it was there. Not doing me one damn bit of difference.
I think the other side of
this is that there is no one (other than Juanito) to share the pain with. We chose not to tell people so that there
wouldn’t be the added pressure. But now it’s
like the last six months are just gone.
Sucked into a vacuum of time that no one will ever know about. No one, not even the small handful of people
who knew we were trying, has asked. I
did get the question of drinking alcohol around the holidays from some
family, or at least they talked amongst themselves and not directly to me. I also had a friend say out right that she
was expecting an announcement from me or another friend and day now. Well, that’s the thing about expectations. They go unanswered. And can crush your holiday spirit.
I know that all of this
sounds very Sylvia Path-esque. I promise
that I am not going to stick my head in an oven. Asides, ours is electric and dirty so I
really don’t want to put mine in there. Not
even to clean it. But like I said I have
no thoughts on the subject but a lot of feelings. I will reconcile those feels one of these
days as I move on.
*hugs* Hang in there, hunny. I am hoping like heck that it happens for you soon.
ReplyDeleteThanks Meg! You and me both :)
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