It. is. happening. I am having a baby. And I would say I don’t believe it but that would be a bold faced lie. I do believe it because I am moody as hell, I have a four month bump (I am not four months along, yet) and too many turns in the car makes me puke. So yeah, I believe it. But I still feel some weird feelings about it, sometimes.
First, I am SO excited. We waited a long time for this. I, specifically, waited a long time for this. So much good has come from me being transparent about other things and so I will be transparent about this. I have typed out my experience below but if you don’t care for the details–feel free to skip to the bottom.
I tried really hard to have a baby. I tried to for two years with my ex-husband. We did testing and fertility treatments. I cried a lot of tears.
Then, I got divorced and I felt a new kind of sad. I wondered if more babies were meant for me. I would go through long periods of grieving this–only to rally myself with renewed hope–I would find someone! But…there was that lingering fear of knowing I didn’t get pregnant for so long. A fear that caused me to spit this truth out at Rob five minutes into our second date. I am really coy and smooth, in case you were unaware.
Luckily, Rob did not immediately run for the hills. Entranced by my charm, he stayed and we got married and we immediately started discussing babies because I have no chill. The reality is, I am 32. I know, I know. Not THAT old but when you’ve already been in the parenting game for almost eight years–you’re looking towards the future like…eventually, I would like to be done with googling random rashes on the internet at 2 am. I love parenting but I also want to enjoy my husband alone before I am 108. Plus, remember, I was prepared for an uphill battle.
So, we tried. And it worked! (lol). I thought getting pregnant was this massive hurdle and yet I found myself pregnant within a few months of being married. It felt like the biggest affirmation that every decision I had made up until that point was validated. If I am honest, I felt a little smug about it. And then, that sweet baby did not survive.
Miscarriage is the ugliest, darkest thing I have experienced. It is lonely and heartbreaking and rage inducing– and I have much more to say about it than I will here, today. It took our first year of marriage and turned it in on it’s head. It made me question a lot of things about myself. It made me want to never have a baby again and also have one immediately. Grief and hormones are a terrible cocktail. I still feel the need to say “this is my third pregnancy”. It feels awkward but also important. There was another one.
We dedicated ourselves to a new beginning. We bought a new house, we looked forward. We did not discuss babies as much. As we trudged into February, we felt the fog lifting. I had wholeheartedly convinced myself that we lost the baby due to an ovulation/progesterone issue. So, I began taking ovulation tests in a fervent effort to convince my doctor that SOMETHING IS WRONG.
I got negative after negative tests and so on February 12th, I fired off an email to my doctor demanding some testing. I was, quite frankly, kind of rude. She agreed and I shared this exciting news with a nurse friend. Then, on February 13th, I got a positive OPK! Waaaay late but it was there. This was actually exciting because it confirmed that things were happening all at the wrong time: I was clearly broken and someone was going to have to fix me.
This same nurse friend gently suggested to me that sometimes people get positive ovulation tests when they are, actually pregnant. I scoffed. LOL. Not me. But driving home on Valentine’s Day, I decided to take one of the 48 cheap, Amazon tests under the bathroom sink. I came home from work, took the test, and promptly forgot about it. For hours. That is how certain I was that it was not happening. After dinner, Rob decided to take out the trash and he asked Austen to collect the trash from the bathrooms. THE BATHROOM! There is a pregnancy test in the bathroom! I practically bowled Austen over to beat her in there. I wasn’t two feet in the door before I saw it. By this point, Rob was outside with his rain boots on, trudging to the trash can in the rain. I ran outside, barefoot–and pregnant–and practically screamed at him, “WE ARE HAVING A BABY!” The look on his face was priceless and beats any Pinterest idea I could have drummed up.
I say all this to say–its been a journey. And through that journey, I have been held by so many friends. I have had countless conversations about precious babies we will never meet, negative pregnancy tests and the many uncertainties of motherhood. Our babies come to us in all kinds of ways but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to readily accept that it doesn’t happen on our timeline.
So, when I thought of announcing our baby–I felt such joy and excitement–but I also remembered that dark cloud. The one that would envelope me when someone else announced during my years of waiting. I thought of whole days avoiding social media, aware that the popular post of the day would break my heart. I knew people would be excited for me–and I was excited for every friend who had a baby over the past seven years–but I also know people are hurting. And wondering when their turn will come. Or how their journey will ultimately look. Social media connects us and is a powerful tool for feeling less alone. But it can also be a dangerous thief of joy.
I hope that my news today has brought you some joy–but if it hasn’t, I get it. I hope my story gives you some hope but if you’re not there yet and all it does it make you want to throw things then, I GET IT. If you can’t comment on the post, come to the shower, or muster the hug–don’t you worry. You are so right to feel angry and sad and I hope that I can meet you in that place and offer some support. It’s lonely. It’s dark. And all the rainbows in the world don’t cast a light when you feel so empty.