no real reason I guess. Just in a weird frame of mind.
too much stuff in my head and heart. Nothing tragic, so don’t freak.
bad hair cut, not really “feelin’ the love” at work right now, just finished reading a very emotionally difficult story about a woman who carried her baby for quite a while knowing that the baby probably wouldn’t live (that’s not why I’m depressed. Angie is really being used by God. Her utter reliance on God through her pain is incredibly uplifting. If you want to know more go to the Audrey Caroline link in my blogroll), but mostly my emotional confusion stems from something that happened last year.
Last year we had two IVF attempts that “failed” the first involved three embryos that were all put back in me on Day 3 and then didn’t “take” The second attempt involved two absolutely perfect little embryos who also didn’t “stick” It took till day 21 though for us to know one way or the other. I went through days and days of doctors saying that I was “chemically pregnant” Which means that you aren’t really pregnant but you aren’t completely “not pregnant” either. Eventually we got all the way to “not pregnant” …….. Lovely.
Just because my tiny little 8 cell kids never attached to my womb doesn’t mean they didn’t exist. The photos I have of them are amazing. Real, living clusters of cells that were random combinations of ME and MARTIN. It was so beautiful to just gaze at them. I tracked the numbers for a while (while we waited for them to “stick”) trying to figure it out. “okay, little ones, today is Day Four, so you are each 16 cells by now” “Alright, rise and shine, today is DAY FIVE, so you are 32 whole cells! wow you are both growing so fast” eventually my math skills were over whelmed by the numbers and I just basked in the wonder of it.
And now, today, for some reason I’m wondering if I should acknowledge that I DO mourn the the embryos that didn’t stick. I often think that I will be condemned by others for thinking of the “failures to stick” as if they were miscarriages. Is that fact that they even existed and multiplied and grew for three days in a petri dish enough to qualify as life? Or am I some kind of poseur for thinking that. There is a myth inside my head that since they never showed up on a sonogram that I somehow don’t have the right to feel the emotional pain. The physical pain was real though. oh buddy was it real. and during a work party/social function too. that was NOT fun.
When people ask if I have children should I say “Yes! Five in heaven and one on the way!”
Should we have named them? I mentioned that to Martin once after the first three didn’t make it and he just shook his head at me and kept staring at the road ahead. He couldn’t even talk about it.
actually I know that the reason I’m stuck on this today is because of Angie and her story about losing her baby, and also the Chapman’s recent loss and Nicole Sponberg’s baby that died of SIDS. I guess my heart is trying to connect? to feel a reason for my sadness. To justify the horrifyingly deep hole that I still have in my heart EVEN THOUGH WE ARE PREPARING TO ADOPT A BABY.
By all logic I should be happy and bouncy and thrilled. I am, but maybe I’m mourning the growing reality that I will never hold a baby from my own body. As much as I laugh and say that I am happy about the fact that my ribs will never be kicked and that my bladder gets to stay where it belongs thank-you-very-much, I am still hurt. I am still jealous of the women with babies growing inside them.
And, now this is ugly ya’ll , I am very jealous of how my co-workers are treating the pregnant ladies here like their happiness and prospects are more real than mine. Just because their babies are growing here in Atlanta where they can be seen and have their bellies rubbed and talked to and mine is growing in another state and in another woman’s body.
I can’t talk to my baby, I can’t feel kicks. I have to wait. and I hate waiting.
LORD HELP! please God. please. this hurts. not as much as losing a baby would, but it does hurt. and I don’t know what to do about it.
***ps. God did help. Our birth mother called this afternoon just to chat. It was so good to hear the sound of her voice. So happy, so pregnant and still so committed to this adoption with us. We laughed together. God is so good to me. Even when I complain and whine. Thank you Lord.