I don’t even know how to start this post. I’ll jut throw it out there and then try to figure it out on my way.
So, last Friday, my dad went in for surgery. I knew something was wrong with me because my period still hadn’t started and I was feeling strange. I was feeling some anxiety because my dad was in surgery and I felt incredibly emotional. I decided that I needed to take a pregnancy test before I popped a Xanax… just in case. I sat alone in my parents bathroom staring at a stick that, for the first time in my life, said I was pregnant.
Even as I write this, I get the same feeling of excitement. Like a wave of unexplainable emotions crashing over my entire being. It was exhilarating. I had never ever seen two lines, in the 3 years I have been peeing on sticks, praying, waiting, staring at the little window trying to force a line to show up. It was finally there. No more trying different lighting to see if maybe I just can’t see unless I have a flashlight and a magnifying glass, no more looking at it every five minutes thinking that maybe it will change while I’m not looking. It was positive.
I called Louie, he was shocked. We have been under the impression that it was not going to happen for us naturally so this was like… the best news ever. We weren’t broken!
I called my sister, who came home and hugged me and we talked about her being an auntie, and that it better be a girl.
I called my friends, two of whom were recovering from massive hangovers from raging well into the night under the influence of tons of fun things I’d be prohibited to touch for the next 9 months. They were excited for me, we gushed and laughed and then they went back to bed and called me later that night both asking “Did you call me this morning and tell me you were pregnant?!”. It was amazing to share the news with them because for so long I had been complaining to them (more than anyone else) that I was to be infertile forever.
I called my mom, she told me my dad was fine and pulled through perfectly. I immediately told her I was pregnant. She was so excited too. She knew I was pregnant before I did, asking me a few days before if I was sure I wasn’t pregnant. I told her there was no way! My EDD was the day that her father was born, it felt so meant to be.
I told my dad and he was over-the-moon happy for us. Asking me what I was going to name “her”, convinced it was a girl. I told him our baby names (we’ve had them picked out for the past year). He disapproved fervently. Suggesting the name “Tupelo” and promising me that our child would hate the names I picked out, accusing me of being too much like my mother. After all, my name was supposed to be “Hazel” and Hillary was supposed to be “Henrietta” until my dad stepped in and changed our names for us. Sorry old man, but “Tupelo” just wasn’t going to cut it!
Telling Louie’s parents was my favorite, they were so surprised and happy. That is my favorite memory, it was so special and beautiful and I felt so utterly joyful and grateful that they are my family. I’ll cherish that memory forever.
Even though it was early I felt those regular early pregnancy symptoms and I loved them. It was like all of my anxiety melted away instantly the second I knew I was pregnant. It was SO easy to feel happy and ignore any signs of feeling anxious. I went on with my life, going to school and doing homework and being even more social than normal. I started feeling like I was going to puke, but never did. When I washed my hair, none of my hair fell out. My boobs literally felt like they were going to explode. I was so excited about all of it! It all meant that I was going to be a mom, Louie was going to be a dad and we were going to be a family.
Then Wednesday evening, my light spotting turned worse and I started getting really bad cramps. I knew it was over. It was. It’s Sunday now and I’m finally home. I spent the weekend at my mom’s house being angry and crying a lot.
I know it was early, and I know most people don’t even know they’re pregnant as early as I did. But, I did. I knew. I was finally pregnant after waiting for so long. And then it was over.
Things will go back to normal. My body is back to normal, my emotions are slowly getting more stable and I feel less and less like I want to hide under the covers and never see anyone again.
Louie is a saint, and has made this whole thing easier for me by being my punching bag and still loving me and being sad with me at the same time. He’s the sane one while I can’t be. And of course, Shelby is my big baby. She snuggles me when I just want to snuggle without having to say anything.
My friends have all been wonderful. They are so brilliant and positive. Every time I start to get down they bring me back up. I can say with certainty that if I didn’t have them, I wouldn’t be able to get off the couch today.
So, its over. I was knowingly pregnant for 5 days, but it felt like 5 minutes. Just saying 5 days makes this whole thing seem silly. But I had 5 days of dreams and hopes and excitement, and even though it was cut far too short and that little person that never made their debut in our family is gone for now, I learned so much about myself and my husband and how strong our love is.
When I was three, my mom told me about her miscarriages. I replied to her “It was me, coming back to you every time.”
I’d like to think that’s the way it works, and that I’ll see whoever that was again. As my amazing OB said… The life that will be will be.
So, now its back to the grind. Finals are coming up, then summer and then the last semester of college. We’ll keep trying and I’ll keep blogging. Hopefully the next one wont be so damn melancholy. I’ll have to think of a funny story to tell you… I’ve got plenty, but I need to find one that won’t get me in trouble with my husband.