Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Back-and-forth and to-and-fro, around-and-around I go.

Today was a back-and-forth kind of day. I didn't cry on the way to work, though I was close. I didn't even cry for a while at work. Though occasional thoughts and lines of conversation had me in tears, I did a pretty good job stifling them.

Some difficult conversations were had along the course of the day, however. There was one in which I was reliving one of my personal worst experiences within the entire thing, in that I went through the day of the D&C procedure, as well as the day after, without my husband anywhere near my side, or even in this town. I am not mad at him for that, but the pain and heartache are definitely still there. It's one of those things that the only person I really wanted or needed to be there with me was very clearly... not at all. It kind of kills a person, a little bit. But, I do not hold a grudge against him, I just pray I can sort through the feelings and hurt that his absence caused me.

Another conversation was about the entire mess of infertility coupled with the miscarriage. It can be very exciting to find out at 3 weeks, 5 days pregnant, but it's also a very nerve-wracking time, in that you have about 9 full weeks of first trimester fear to endure, where you're most likely to miscarry. This time, I thought we were "safe" like we seemed to be with Spencer, because at 7 weeks we saw the heartbeat. Little did I know that six days later (two weeks from today) that heart would stop beating. And it's hard to feel like it wasn't a child of mine, because for six full weeks (give or a take a few days), we were overjoyed at the possibility and then reassurance of this brand new life, this child we created... and then it felt like it was all ripped away.

I know it's not "as bad" as carrying a baby to term and then having it pass away, or have it pass away closer to term, but it's not "any better" either. It's still a lost child, deep down. That's how I feel anyway. It doesn't make me correct, it's just how I feel, so if you are reading, please do not be offended.

I know that many people name their unborn children, even as early as being lost in the first trimester. Some people have suggested that to me. I thought about it, but I don't feel like giving our baby a "proper" human name would bring any more closure to the situation. To me, Sprout is perfect. And someday, in Heaven, I will know if Sprout was a boy or a girl. Until that day, it doesn't much matter, I guess, because I refuse to dwell on that. Sprout is perfect as he or she is right now.

Anyway, even, amidst the tears, at one point, I had a hood laugh as Jillian reminded me of our hug on Sunday where I cried and shook in her arms, and squashed Spencer between us as he flailed to get free.

Fortunately, there were some very wonderful moments to help balance out the sorrow... like when Spencer and Grayson started playing with pans under the stove.

Or when Spencer, on his first ever attempt, climbed all the way up Jillian's stairs.

The drive home was on of the most difficult parts of the day, as instinctively, almost, I delayed last Tuesday in my mind, where I had started spotting heavily at work, and just felt panic and terror and completely broken as I called my doctor on the drive home, where the tone of her voice made me realize how serious my situation was becoming. When she said, "that worries me a bit more" after I told her I was cramping, I felt my heart sink into the pit of my stomach and became incredibly nauseated and overcome.

I tried to call my husband but he didn't answer, so I pulled over on the road and sobbed until I could focus to drive. Spencer patiently sat in the backseat watching passersby and playing with his toy hammer. What a sweetheart.

Thankfully, Spencer was able to bring me back to the present at bath time. I was sitting there, recalling how I was barely even able to put him in the tub last Tuesday, when he decided it was the perfect time to stand up in the tub, and almost instantly, start peeing. He watched himself going pee in his bathwater, saying "uh-oh" over and over, until after he was finished. I laughed so hard. Then, he was kind enough to dump a cup of water down my front. Needless to say, he brought me out of my funk and misery of the past week and into the present moment, where I have a beautiful, charming, and somewhat hilarious (in my opinion) miracle living with us.

Now that he is back in his crib, I can't help but picture myself last week, as I lay on the couch, weeping with my entire body, as I plead aloud to God, "Lord Almighty, please don't take this baby from us." I wept it over and over and over again. Am I mad at God for not answering my plea? No. Little did I know, Sprout was already with Him.

I have a stinging feeling that I will have a hard time falling asleep tonight, but hopefully, Jake will soon be here to hold me as I likely cry myself to sleep. Or maybe, I will find the peace I need beforehand, and I will drift off soundly. I pray that is the case, but if it isn't I won't be angry.

I know I still have a long road of recovery and healing before me, but at least, tonight, I'm going to take some relief knowing that I can still laugh and smile, and that with Spencer's help especially, I have done so more than once in the last two days. As small as he is, he is a big part of the strength I find that is carrying me through my sorrow. Even if I am sobbing uncontrollably, he finds a way to make me smile through my tears. It's incredible. Someday, when he's older, though I have been telling him now, I will tell him about how he helped me get through some of the darkest days of my life.

I am nervous for tomorrow, because I know that with the excellent memory God has given me, I will undoubtedly be having flashbacks to last Wednesday. But, instead of dwelling on that fear and anxiety, I am going to relish the fact that I made it through today, and pray that I make it through tonight. I will fight my battle and trudge through my mucky road and what lies before me tomorrow... tomorrow.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading my blog, following my story, inviting yourself into my sorrows, and befriending and praying for me along this journey.

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