Can't Shake It

Still waiting on the cycle. And feeling uber-moody.

Last night, I cried while standing at the program at the temple Visitor's Center. I had just silently wished "Heavenly Father, I'd like a baby to bring here next year" and my eyes filled with tears.

Strange Christmas.

It was a good day. I giggled and laughed. But I spent a lot of time trying to control my anger, frustration, and hurt feelings over things that I'd normally be able to rationalize about and/or shake off.

Not so today. In fact, it's 2:47 the morning after Christmas and I'm still awake because M "ignored" me much of the day and because I'm hurt over my mom talking to my brother on the phone. What the . . . ?

At this point I'm hoping this cycle busts soon or I don't know what'll happen over at my place. Straight jacket, anyone?



Anxious (and a Little Hormonal)

All of the sudden, the dawning of the Return of My Cycle is making me anxious. Like "now the pressure's on" and "are you sure you're ready to do this again so soon" kind of anxious. It's bound to happen in the next week or two, and the whole "trying" part a week or two after that. Ugh. I'm not ready.

Then G, a co-worker and kindred spirit who started on the very same day as me, came in to my office. When I told someone at work about my miscarriage, they mentioned G and his wife to me, saying they just had a miscarriage. I didn't realize it was a second-trimester miscarriage, that they lost their son at 20 weeks gestation and that this was their first pregnancy and child ~ nor that it happened on Thanksgiving Day.

I kept it together for the 30 minutes I was talking with him about it - all except for my right eye, which kept betraying my inner sadness for them, and which I tried to wipe as surreptitiously as possible while he was candidly talking with me about this experience and how they plan to try again in 6 months.

The moment he left my office, I burst into tears and said a prayer for them. I can't imagine the heartache his poor wife is feeling right now, and the similar heartache he feels but suppresses so that he can be strong for her.

I e-mailed my friend H, vowing to try one more time and turn to adoption if it doesn't work out. She relayed what she's seen happen with her newest niece and reassured me that the miracle of having your own child trumps the problems and encouraged me to stick it out.

I continued reading my "Coming to Term" book tonight. I also talked with M about my anxieties about trying again. And I toss out there, just to see how it sounds and feels, "I'll try it once more. OK, maybe two more times. But if something goes wrong on the next go around, the one after that may have to wait for a while."

Even though the entire topic is plaguing my thoughts today, mostly I'm just tired of thinking about it.



Cherub Cheeks and Watchful Eyes

Last night at a family party, in the absence of the attention-grabbing gift exchange, I gave in to my fascination and held the babies. I figured instead of admiring from afar and feeling sad, which is what has been happening on Sundays, I'd just jump in the ring, fill up my arms with the family's newest little ones and see where that took me. Plus, my cousins make some dang cute babies!

It was fun. It's been a long time since I've held a baby - since my youngest nephew was a baby, in fact, and now he's 2 (and living in TX). And so goes my mom's lament: she has no young grandbabies to hold and be fun with. They're all "too cool" to hang with grandma now.

After holding one cousin's 11-month old cutie, I picked up another cousin's 2-month old babe (so cute!) and held onto him a while. Then, I asked M if he'd like to hold him. If my family was surprised I was paying so much attention to the babies, they were likely flabbergasted that M held this one!

Later in the car, M told me my mom kept giving him The Eye. Apparently she was looking back and forth between him and me, no doubt hoping she'll have a new grandchild (or two) to fill her arms by this time next year. Aye, there's the rub in telling your baby-hungry mom you've had a miscarriage, especially when you vowed to keep the fact that you're trying a Big Secret from her. Now she's on high alert and full-scale Baby Watch has begun.

I can't really blame her though. My husband looks fabulous with a baby in his arms. And given the track record of good-looking babies in both of our families, ours will no doubt be gorgeous. No wonder she's so excited!

P.S. Turns out the baby's diaper leaked and each of us had a good-sized puddle of baby pee that soaked through our jeans. . . neither of us minded much. That's a good sign, right?



An Admission and a Dance

Tomorrow marks one month since my D&E. As I talked on the phone with my pregnant friend C yesterday - right before I went into the library and checked out "Coming to Term: Uncovering the Truth about Miscarriage" - and she asked me how I am doing, I responded in a genuinely chipper tone that "I'm fine! I have my moments, but I'm good!"

I relayed to her my tough Sunday last week, but admitted that "I think we're ready to try again as soon as my cycle returns." The doubt that surrounds that readiness is starting to lessen, and so I can, with increasing confidence, make that statement. C was the first person I said it to, and as the words came out of my mouth, I realized they were mostly true.

I decided to come home and try them out on M. I told him I had talked with C and that we are planning to get together for dinner after the holidays. Then I told him how she expressed her concern for me and I told her I think we're ready to try again as soon as my cycle returns.

For me it was a "ta-dahhhhh!" moment, the kind that comes with bright eyes and outstretched hands and expectant confidence.

For him, it was like "yeah. . . . ", complete with a quiet retreat, a stepping inward to go off on his own and think it through.

Then again, yesterday was his last day of work due to a lay off, so maybe he's thinking it's not such a great idea right now. That's a man.

And me, I'm thinking he's bound to get a job in the next 10 months or so, so why not? That's a woman.

And thus we dance.



Crying it Out

Sunday was a tough day, all over again.

I saw the newest baby in the ward, all wrapped up like the burrito baby of my dreams. Later, in Relief Society, she was all unwrapped and I got a good look at her. She's beautiful.

And something about that room full of all those women (in a special meeting with Young Women's and Primary leaders), and something about the red and green tablecloth, and something about the Christus on the table, and something about that baby all wrapped in fluffy pink. . . I stared at that Christus and wondered "Christ is said to have experienced every human experience possible. Did he know what it felt like to have a miscarriage even though he was a man?"

Something about all that combined against me, took hold of me, and the tears started to fall. Uncontrollably so. To the point I decided I had to rush to the bathroom before the dam broke open and the floods came. I fumbled past my fellow ward members in a haze, offering a weak smile and bumping into doorways and walls in my haste to get to a safe, isolated bathroom stall.

Once there, I grabbed at the toilet paper to wipe my already wet eyes. Then I cried quietly for a few moments. And prayed that I could get over my funk and be happy at church.

As a group of primary girls came in with their teacher, I composed myself as much as I could as quickly as I could and returned back to my own class with a puffy, red, cry face.

And as I sat down I knew, I just knew, that Christ knows exactly what I'm going through. And I felt better.



It Takes Days

I woke up yesterday morning having had the strangest dream.

I dreamt I was pregnant and went into labor and drove myself to the midwife's house to have the baby.

The midwife and her husband were in a little bit of an argument.

My dream labor and delivery was essentially a non-event.

I had the baby, with my husband nowhere to be found (?), then packed myself and the babe up (I'm not sure she was dressed - and yes, it was a "she") and left.

As I got out to my car, which, unlike real life, was an SUV, I looked down and noticed my new baby wasn't like a real-life newborn baby.

She was more like a TV or movie baby - nice and chunky and rounded out like a 3 month old.

And she had a full head of downy, red hair. And fair skin.


Then, I discovered I'm probably ovulating

which means my cycle will soon return

and I've decided my body is sending me messages in secret code.

Now that I've had time to think it over

and over and over and over

I realize that the baby girl in my dream

looked just like me when I was about 4 or 6 months old.

I'm not quite sure what that means. . .




I had my follow up today with Dr. M. Not a fun thing to walk into the OB/GYN's office and be surrounded by pregnant ladies when you've just miscarried. Not fun at all. Especially when one of those ladies, when asked how she's doing today, says "I'm still pregnant" like that should say it all, and I think to myself "Feel lucky you can say those words. There are some of us who can't."

I waited for the doc in the "second room" for 30 minutes, alternately switching between an article in "Parents" magazine about how not to yell at your kids and one in "Budget Travel" magazine about house swapping. I realize my reading choices epitomize the fact that I have each of my feet in two different worlds right now.

In the intervening time before "my turn", through the walls I heard Dr. M conversing with a patient on my left and the swish-a-swish-a-swish of a baby's heartbeat on my right. That was also not fun. A little hard, in fact.

Dr. M finally came to see me and we chatted about my recovery and my future plans for trying or not (I voted for "trying"). Turns out, he'll want to see me very early on again next time. I immediately thought "oh. more waiting and seeing". It also turns out that my antibody screen for Rh sensitivity came back negative. That's right! He screened me without my even having to ask.

He said "come see me the next time the stick turns blue. Happy trying!" Gotta love Dr. M! But I am grateful I don't have to go back there again any time soon.

As to the trying part, I'm hopeful. I'm also very glad to be waiting it out through one normal cycle. Kind of takes the pressure off. Plus, I'm just not ready. Yet.

I must admit, I get a bit catty toward pregnant women (and that one pregnant man out there) who get pregnant without even trying (or after having lived as a man for years) and seemingly take it for granted that everything goes off without a hitch. I'm having a bit of a problem with that right now, really.

M came home and reported that he was sad today "just for a little bit" because someone at work announced they're pregnant and that the baby's healthy, yadda yadda yadda. I told him about the swishy heartbeat. We spent a few moments being sad together, but as we always do, ended it on a positive note. "It will be OK."


"May you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world." -Ray Bradbury