Trepedatious

The weekend came, the weekend went. We did housework - stuff that has to do with the siding and new porches. We cleaned out the outside closet, about to be torn off (which I bitterly regret but all have insisted it's for the best). We trimmed a holly bush, a holly tree if you will, and sorted and adjusted and sorted some more. I wrote a few thanks yous, dismissed some quotes and paid some bills. We took out the recycling and the trash. I had emails to answer, some long, some maudlin. I loathed the idea, so took no action, on calling my mother to let her know what had happened. My sister and I joked that she wouldn't know I was pregnant, because she never asks how I am. "When will you tell her" she said. "The very first time she asks me a question about myself". since she hadn't, I didn't. And now I have two things to tell not one.

"Can I just avoid it altogether?" I asked.
My sister pondered. "I don't think so. I think you need to say something."

Which seems to me a pain. I'll get no satisfaction nor will she say anything remotely appropriate. It'll be a chore. I suppose I could just the pattern and say nothing. Or wait for senility to arrive. Who knows. But other then that shadow, it was a remarkably serene weekend.

For all the talking you'd think we would have done, not much needed to be said.
I didn't lay down, I didn't take it easy. My husband didn't angst, we didn't wail lament or moan. We went to a wedding actually. Saturday. Which to be honest was surreal and I behaved embarrassingly oddly, telling a stranger for whatever reason what had happened. Again, still finding it shocking that Friday morning I was pregnant and Friday night I was not. But past that. Past the strangeness of it all, past the weeks of focusing on being, then not being, I felt.... relieved.

Oh I know the prevailing wisdom is "Take time to grieve" and "It's going to hit you hard" but I'm not sure if it's apples to apples. My few friends who have had miscarriages don't have my history nor were we the same going in to it. I think after Ellie, and after reconciling ourselves to never having any, then having one, not having one isn't so awful.

My motherinlaw was aghast that I found out alone, during the ultrasound. She says "If only you would have started spotting, or cramping, you'd have known it was coming. But to go in happy and to have this happen..." She cried on the phone, this normally stalwart woman.

Methinks she doth protest too much must be reverberating around me because, I simply said. "oh but this wasn't that bad."

Bad is walking down the street feeling a fissure then pop, and bleeding down your leg. Sitting crying on a sidewalk two miles from home with nothing but a cellphone and an ipod staining the curb waiting for an ambulance. Bad is waking up in the middle of the night feeling damp, and standing to find your insides falling out on a white tile floor. Bad is laying in an ER over and over having compassionate masked faces tell you they are sorry. To have woken up, happy, safe, not scared. and to drive to a beautiful clean office, with familiar faces, in an idyllic setting, alone in a room with walls to hide anyone from witnessing, to find out quietly, then be left alone to absorb the news...by far, by far by far by far better then having the world witness your shock.

When people say "I know how you feel. You'll need time. Don't rush to heal" what I really think is:

Although this sounds crazy, it is… alright. If that makes any sense. I think – to be practical – that two would have been so dangerous for us. My cervix would not have held likely and at 21, 22 weeks we’d have ended up with micro-preemies or far far worse. So it’s not that we weren’t committed, or attached, I think we were always cautious. I kept saying “Well, if this pregnancy takes” “I’m late vs I’m pregnant” So to some degree we were insulated. For what’s its worth I am moving on. My friend came over and moved all the maternity clothes to the basement and I start WW today. A new dawn, a new month, a new day.

I guess I truly, truly feel like Ellie and Doug will be enough. The dr told me that really, this was expected of me. My eggs are old and they were developed over 40 years ago. I knew that we might not ever have another. We are giving ourselves till September and we’ll decide then if we think we’ll try again. If not, we’ll stop and believe me when I tell you this, it’ll be ok. I don’t feel incomplete, or less for not having more then one. We had enough love to give another, but we didn’t feel we “needed” one.

And strangely, at least I know what the end is now. You know this is the first time in 10 weeks I haven’t been nervous or scared. So when people say “things happen for a reason” it might just be that Doug and I really, really knew that one was ok – and that God was just checking.