Well, Christmas went off without a hitch. It was easy to make people believe I was happy, that I wasn’t still in mourning. It was easy to pretend that I was in the Christmas spirit, that every other thought wasn’t of my dead baby or of the fact that I can’t get pregnant and what that means for my future.
There is really no one in my life who understands my grief, my want, the need to have another baby. Not even my dear husband who has been through the same trauma and loss of our little man, he is more than happy to continue our life as a family of four. Every month that goes on, and I am not pregnant, I become more and more broken. Less than the person I was the day before. Do I believe a new baby will “fix” me? No, but what a blessing, what a joy, what a beautiful distraction he would be.
Christmas 2009, I was trying to get pregnant. I was in ignorant bliss that it would eventually happen as I had been pregnant 3 times before with 2 live children. I became pregnant a little over a month later. I ovulated February 1, 2010, and that was our “golden egg”. The result was Xavier.
Christmas 2010, I was deep in the throes of my loss of Xavier. I sat precariously on the edge of post partum depression and the fresh, raw grief of my sweet baby boy. There was no wiggle room from my beloved; he never wanted to try again. I was to be happy with what we had, never to try again. I grieved the loss of my child and any future children. I was still suffering the effects of pre-eclampsia and trying to keep my blood pressure from sky rocketing.
Christmas 2011, my beloved has given me the biggest gift he ever could. In August we begin trying again. I immediately suspect this isn’t going to be easy and that I may have problems. I am right and this Christmas smacks of the same thoughts of Christmas 2009. I want to be pregnant and feel the wiggles of our child in my womb. I have a look at my charts, and two years later, I am scheduled to ovulate February 1, 2012 and I am reminded AGAIN, that I so far from where I was two years ago. I can’t remember what if feels like to feel happy. Truely happy. Joyful even. My beloved doesn’t understand why. We are trying and that should be enough. I should feel satisfied. So why don’t I? Why aren’t I happy in just the trying? Am I ungrateful? I truly have no answers for any of these questions.
I have recently had two messages from friends that they were pregnant. I have to be honest and say my first reaction for each was not happiness, it was jealousy and anger. Anger that no one else knows how I feel now. I am alone. I don’t have anyone on my side anymore. I won’t speak to the fact that I am happy for them and that they are more than deserving, because that is obvious…I am thrilled for them! I am writing about this to explore the bad feelings, the one that make me feel bad about myself because I feel jealous and angry about their new lives growing in their wombs. I want my turn. I want some good things for me, for our family.
I had a dream last night that I had a positive pregnancy test, but I was having problems believing it was real. I was running around my house with a pregnancy test, and I couldn’t find a bathroom to re-test. I was elated. JOYFUL. It seemed so real that when I woke up I honestly had to give my head a shake and remember I wasn’t pregnant…all day today, I had to remind myself it was a dream. Every time I did, it was so very painful.
This post has been a bit of a ramble, but I have not written for awhile, so it all feels a jumbled mess inside my head and in my heart.
So here we go again…CD 8. I am still cycle monitoring because they couldn’t book my HSG before I ovulate and it can’t be done after. Well it can, but only if you haven’t been actively trying…and I am not willing to not try.
Things will be a little messed up because the clinic is closed until January 3, and I’ll be CD 12 by then and may have already ovulated. So we’ll see. I need off this rollercoaster.
Let me get pregnant….please.