I AM OKAY
(PNOers: mc ment)
One hot afternoon, June 8th to be exact, I was finishing up a post which included some details about my pregnancy with the Cracker. I suddenly felt a gush down there and lazily got up to go to the bathroom. Okay, my period, whatever. I took care of business and headed back to the computer.
But something wasn't right, and although I knew it immediatly, I couldn't be bothered. I wanted to finish the post before J got home.
Sparing you most of the gory details, of which believe you me there are many, here are the highlights:
I was miscarrying.
I had been pregnant.
I didn't know it.
But having BTDT before a few times, the pieces started to fall into place.
The sudden rebirth of the other Heidi? The fun, blogging version? Hormones.
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J was home now, and I'd already told him that I had just started to have the freakiest period ever.
Bit clots, none of the usual warning cramps which I always get, and zero bloating. In fact I’d been bloated for a month or two, and now it was suddenly gone. (A check of the scale later showed that the 10lbs I’d put on in the last two months and blamed on Costco’s Spinach Artichoke Parmesan dip had disappeared.) And a million more now ah ha signs that made sense now. (Trust me, there really is a lot I'm not sharing.) Period? Somewhere between 6 and 9 weeks late. Even if I hadn't been so busy being angry, I don't keep track: I've taken a million negative pregnancy tests in my life and I choose not to do that to myself anymore.
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I started to wonder, could I have been pregnant? I asked J.
"Well, you've been acting like it for a while now."
He's always known before me; he's never been wrong.
As I finished up that post, I noticed that my shirt was soaked. Yeah, it was hot, but not that hot.
And then, in utter disbelief, I realized that my chest was gushing, spraying across the room gushing. Not colostrum, but milk.
I ran to J.
"Yeah, you've been leaking for weeks."
"What?!"
And it was at that point I knew, really knew. The milk thing? While that hadn't happened when I miscarried before, this was the first pregnancy since the Cracker, after breastfeeding for 18 months. And though he weaned himself cold turkey one day, I had never leaked. Not a drop. Ever. And J confirmed it.
I became hysterical. J tried to comfort me the best he could, but I needed a girlfriend, one who'd understand.
The Cracker was waking up from his nap. "I can't be a mom tonight, I just can't. I'm going to lock myself in the bedroom and call Nisa (my vibrator loving friend)."
I decided I needed my baby anyway. I let J do the dirty work, getting him to the potty, changing his wet Pull-up, but I had to see him.
Big fat tears.
"Mommy no sad. Happy Mommy!"
"That reminds me! Show Mommy your new trick, the happy sad one."
Runs off; comes back with a straw.
"He came up with it all on his own."
"See Mommy see?"
Bends the straw into a U. "HAPPY!"
Upside down now. "Sad. Happy! Sad. Happy! Sad. Happy!"
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I'd always wondered how I'd react to another miscarriage now that I had a wonderful, perfect child in my arms. The depression I mentioned in my past? 100% due to the fact that we'd spent the first 3 years and 4.5 months of our marriage trying to get pregnant, finally suceeded, and then suffered a miscarriage.
Because everyone is always wondering, no, we didn't seek out help. We were dirt poor, couldn't afford to eat Ramen poor; we were young, 19 when we started trying. We had crappy mall jobs and were trying to make our way through college, with super crappy medical insurance. Even though we wanted a baby, we were foolishly following our hearts and we knew it. So we hid the fact from everyone, friends, family, while I did insane amounts of research. Herbs, positions, temperature tracking and ovulation kits... I know I'm forgetting something.
After that first miscarriage with J, I was so depressed that I dropped out of college, quit my job and just said screw it. J was about to graduate, had a great job waiting for him in Hell, which promised us a new life and a brighter financial future.
For the next 16 months I gave up on ttc. As much as I still longed to be a mom more than ever, I wasn't ready to face that kind of grief again. But, as we don't get pregnant just by looking at each other, we continued to go without birth control cause, heck, why bother?
I spent the first year in Hell goofing off, not working, just doing God-knows-what with my days. Three months in I finally decided I wanted a job, and my first interview was 9/11. (Yes, that 9/11.) All the interviews I had were cancelled immediately. No one was hiring. The first few weeks I watched CNN pretty much every waking hour, (just like the parents on South Park,) and then went back to who knows what. (Honestly, I couldn't tell you.) The following May I went back out there, found a job, and rejoined the world.
Job? Loved it. I was finally finding some happy.
Then, the Cracker, a total surprise. You know how people tell you when you can't get pregnant to stop stressing over it?
I hate those people.
And though I worried constantly, you know the happy ending.
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So back to the recent past...I realized a few things:
1) This pregnancy was never meant to be.
Since the Cracker I've always said that if someone could have told me "Hey, you'll be a mom one day, it's just not time yet, so enjoy the moment and just be patient...it will happen when the time is right" that my life would have been very different. This was that sign. My hormones were way too out of whak, regardless of being pregnant. I couldn't sleep, at all. (Averaging one hour a night.) I couldn't eat. (Not nautious, not hungry, just zero interest in food.) My state of mind? Insane. (The divorce talk above.) Even with my other pregnancies, the ones that didn't bring home a Cracker, I had never been like this: I ate even though it made me sick, I slept every waking moment, and I never wanted to leave my husband.
1a) The sign: it can still happen. Enjoy the great life you have, it's fabulous! It’s just not time yet.
We resumed relations when he was 2, yes, 2 weeks old, and this was the first prenancy. And while I wasn't yet ready to start finding out the why and getting help (we think we know at least some of the reasons, but it has not been confirmed) I was starting to seriously wonder why it had not happened yet when we really weren't stressed. Another factor: the women in my family, gynologically speaking, mature early: menopause starts in the early 30s. My eggs...presumed old beyond my 28.5 years. At 12 I knew I wouldn’t be having kids at 40.
2) The reappearance of fun Heidi? Crazy, silly blogging Heidi? That was the whacky hormones.
This is why your recent wonderful comments have meant so much. She's there, and slowly I'm finding her again even though nature isn't helping anymore. Pathetic, but getting on to post again the first time after June 8th was hard. In just a short time I had readers, and now I was terrified of disappointing them. But now that I've found her I'm not letting go. Dammit...she's fun, and I like her! So that's who I'm learning to be all over again, because she is me. Shopping for vibrators with my SIL? That was after.
3) J is not an asshole. Marriage = still great.
Sure, he drives me crazy sometimes, and I of course return the favor, but it's nothing new. He's still the man I feel in love with. I didn't realize until a few days later when I felt my sanity return just how not myself I'd been. That's the whole "I changed" thing, the not being able to cope with life in part one.
4) Miscarriage, post Cracker? Still hard. Still sucks.
But flame me now, a whole heckofa lot easier than before. Even though that first night as I was looking into his eyes all I could see was the potential amazingness of another baby I would never get to know, and that was more devestating than I could have ever imagined, I had to move on. Don't get me wrong: I stayed up the whole night, crying, talking to Nisa (thank you), and then having lovely contractions when I thought I was finally too exhausted to cry anymore, but the next day I had to pull myself together for the Cracker's sake.
And I must say, one big thing for me, I never got a chance to get excited. It was already too late. This was key.
5) Officially (opposed to passively) trying to have another child will be hard for me.
Sure, we have more money now and decent medical insurance, but the reason we haven't gone down Why Road officially is because I'm not ready for the journey. It's not that I don't believe in medical intervention...I DO. I don't care how I have another child, IVF, adoption, whatever, I'm down with that. I just want to be a mom. But it will not be an easy, and right now I feel my energy is better focused on my baby.
6) I am not jealous of those who do get pregnant more easily.
Astonished? Yes. Riddled with anxiety for them when they announce it to the world the day before they miss their period? Yes. Jealous? I really don't think so... anymore.
I used to be.
One good example: when SIL, who also got married young, announced that they found themselves unexpectedly expecting my perfect nephew for their first wedding anniversary, oh I was green. But her charming husband was really an abuser, and while her doctor didn't want to scare her then, it turned out that her previously unexplained torture was endo. As soon as the placenta was out they were telling her "we didn't want to tell you while you were pregnant, but you need surgery. Now. The fact you got pregnant? Medically impossible." And now with the abuser gone, a really good guy and 7 year old I'm watching her struggle against the odds. More surgery, months trying to get her hormones under control, followed by 5 rounds of Clomid...my heart breaks for her. She is 27, and they've told her it's now or never. (See? Don't I feel like an ass now? She really did need that vibrator.)
One of my best friends, L, just shared with me her great news. Now that's a whole nother can of worms. In the future there may be a Part 3, but for now, I'm done.
I am okay. Really, I am.
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