It's been a while since I've updated. I'm a little annoyed at myself but at the same time, I feel it has been excusable. We've had multiple visits as well as gone on a quick weekend trip to Las Vegas for an internship interview-more on that later.
The main reason however, I haven't had much to say is because I really haven't been sure what to say. Once all the action of the past weeks ended this weekend, I was left to process and I haven't really enjoyed it too much. It's been painful and depressing. I'm tired and don't feel right.
I've tried not to make it a secret of late that Johann and I had been trying to bring an addition to our family for 13 months. I got sick of people asking us when we were going to have kids again, if we want to have anymore kids, telling us that Henry needed a sibling and my favorite, that I would understand such and such better once I had more than just one kid. I realize none of it was meant unkindly but it just wasn't pleasant to hear when we were very conscious of those things and trying as best we could to make it happen.
After making some discoveries of what could be holding us up, I had a treatment and sure enough, March brought the news that I was pregnant. I was so grateful. Finally, finally!
I was due November 13th and November seemed perfect. If we moved for an internship, I'd be in the 2nd trimester and feeling up to it, we'd be settled long enough wherever we were that the baby wouldn't come too soon. We found out the same day we had another loss of sorts happen in our family and it felt very right and even necessary to keep our spirits up. A number of family members were also expecting within a month or two of the due date and we were so excited thinking about the little cousins and cousins once removed all being able to play together and be friends. It really felt perfect.
The sweetest thing though, was telling family and a few friends who had known about what was going on and hearing multiple times, "Oh we're so happy! We have been praying for you!" I was so touched to be remembered by them and also to see we were remembered and blessed by the Lord.
Soon after finding out though, I got nervous when I wasn't feeling very sick. I was exhausted but with Henry I was down for the count kind of sick as well as exhausted. The sight and smell of all food made me sick. I could eat almost anything this time without feeling the slightest bit ill. I told myself it was because the last time I was in school full time and working and not sleeping enough that I felt that way. Always in the back of my mind though I worried and worried. I read a lot about miscarriage. Over a bit of time through some things I can't and shouldn't exactly express, I came as close to knowing as possible that I was going to miscarry. I tried to do things to avoid it and I felt like one of those tragic Greek characters trying to avoid their fate and thereby bringing it about.
I told myself if I cleared 6 or 7 weeks I would be fine because it seemed a lot of people miscarried then. I was just about 8 weeks and then it happened. I didn't know for sure at once and I will forever be annoyed at the doctors/nurses who made me go through all kinds of tests and poking and follow-ups just for the inevitable. They kept giving these little assurances it could be this or that and not a miscarriage when I knew that they knew it was. It was pretty obvious.
I know it's their job, but I'm still annoyed. I'm annoyed they made me go to a follow-up appointment and said nothing helpful or informative about the miscarriage after waiting an hour and forty-five minutes, but only said that actually what we were told and believed was causing the infertility really isn't, in their opinion. So great. 13 more months, huh? Thanks. Way to switch the appropriate times for being cautious and optimistic. Really.
The worst part is feeling like it's never ending. Still blood tests for yet another week. I hate the smell of the tape they use over the injection site. It reminds me of the NICU when Henry was there and makes me think about how terrifying it was thinking we didn't know what was wrong with him and he could stop breathing and be no more. I don't really want that kind of reminder presently.
I don't want to be small or petty. I realize I need to be grateful just to know that it is possible for me to get pregnant again when I was at the point of almost believing it would never be. I understand and am grateful it happened much earlier on so that no operations were involved. I know there are many people who have suffered far more in losing a child and I know I should in no way think my loss as difficult to bear as theirs. I certainly do not. I just felt like it was time to talk about it.
I want to be 'right' but at the moment, with the hormone changes and lack of things I have to do, I find myself more dispirited and down than before. I am trying, but please forgive me if I'm not as sunshiny as I ought. I'll get there, but I suppose this is something I have to go through to get back to there in a more real sense, first.
I don't want to leave on a glum and faithless sounding note. I know that what I once heard spoken is true: 'Trials teach us compassion and when we can remember that, we are no longer victims.' I feel like my compassion has increased and that I feel more than intellectualize this sorrow when others express it. I'm trying to remember that a broken heart is a sacred offering and that the 'new creature' I am to become begins with such a heart. So I am grateful for the atonement and grateful and hopeful that He can heal and make me better than I would have been otherwise. He isn't late, He hasn't forgotten.