Confusion, Joy, and then Loss

"I'm driving home, and I'm almost at your exit. Can I stop in?"

I'm thrilled to get the call on my cell phone from my best, long-time friend. J and I are out walking the twins, and manage to get home in time to find Kristine waiting for us on the front porch. I know why she's here, the real reason. And while she wants to say hello and visit, there is an ulterior motive.

Two days before, I'd received a call from her, and she asked, "How did you know when you were pregnant?" She reported a "bubble" feeling in her belly, which is something I never felt. But hey, who can discount a woman's intuition? So I knew that she'd stopped off at the drugstore just prior to arriving at my house, and had a pregnancy test in her bag.

Ten minutes later, I'm knocking on the bathroom door, asking her if she was ever going to come out. I got a choked "Yea, I'm coming," and she emerged with a tight smirk on her face. I assume it's negative. "It's positive," she squeaked.

And she cried, and cried, and I hugged her tight, feeling the thrill of excitement. Her tears, however, were not of excitement. While Kristine absolutely wants to have children, she's not married, and the relationship with her long-term boyfriend has been full of challenges and problems of late. She's been questioning their future, and thinking about life without him.

We spent a lot of time talking about feelings of disillusionment, shame, embarrassment, and fear. "But do you know what?" she asked. "I would've been really sad if it was negative."

I sent her off with my excitement and understanding, and the promise of a phone call once she's broken the news to her boyfriend.

I think his reaction was as most men's would be, when surprised out of the blue by such monumental news. They had a tough Christmas with family, and she resolved to "not think about it" until she got home and had a visit with her doctor.

I knew she was keeping busy for the past few days, and wasn't worried that I hadn't heard from her. Until I got a phone call yesterday, and she told me she was bleeding. Badly. A phone call to her doctor confirmed what we both feared.

Honestly, I thought she might be somewhat relieved. But she is sad, so sad, for the baby she never asked for, didn't want right now, but would've been such a good mother to. I cried with her on the phone, wishing I could be there right by her side.

Once, many years ago, when J and I were just dating, I had a pregnancy scare, and took the morning after pill. I knew that I simply couldn't have a child at that point. Little did I know that I really couldn't have a kid, but I remember the immense panic that overwhelmed me. Panic at the prospect of a life I'd never envisioned, at that point.

I count myself lucky that I've never had a miscarriage, but I've had some seriously painful disappointments with failed infertility treatments. This is a disappointment that Kristine never expected to have. Being sad to have lost an unwanted pregnancy. I think this will be a life-altering, change-inducing experience for both Kristine and her boyfriend. I hope for the better. And I hope and pray that this will encourage them to plan their life together and make a plan for a family they want to have.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Okay, okay, okay, I was wrong. I know I said in my last post that I was finished with this blog. But as I went through the past few weeks, I kept thinking in posts. Thinking in words, instead of ideas. I'm going to recommit myself to this blog, and really try to get out the thoughts that sometimes suffocate my brain. Plus, the babies are sick of hearing me go on and on about subjects about which they know nothing! I've got a few ideas in the works ... letting it be, infertility in the late 1800s, and other stuff.

A Long Time Coming

It's been practically a month since I posted, and longer than that since I've found the time and inclination to write anything of any substance. In one way, it makes me sad; and in another, slightly relieved.

Relieved that I'm "moving on." Although I know, realistically, that noone really moves on from a life-changing experience, or series of, experiences. They are always with me, constantly in my thoughts, in musings of the past, in my daily life, and very much in thoughts of my future.

Every time a friend mentions she is going to start thinking about Baby #2, I automatically think, "Hmmm, guess that just means you're going to get wild one night with no birth control." I can't make, or hear, a casual comment like that in reference to my own life. Although sometimes, I am tricked into believing I'm just like everyone else. If you don't try for long enough, the reality smudges a bit.

Another friend, an IF friend, and I were talking about birth control. I said I was on the pill, even though it wasn't really necessary, and not even thinking, asked her if she was (she has a new baby, due to IUI, I believe). She was like "Heck, no! I want to have another one, asap."

I didn't even realize what I was asking, so smudged my memory can be somedays. And somedays, it makes me happy that I no longer dwell. That I'm looking forward with new attitude and hope. And other days, I long for the deep, burning desire to become pregnant, the anxiety and frazzled nerves, the anticipation, the focus. Life today is blurry and unfocused in many ways. I'm confident in my thoughts, both in my head and spoken aloud, that no, I'm not going to try for anymore. Not now, anyway. Give me a few years, and perhaps I'll feel different. Perhaps not.

But, wow, those experiences have made me the woman I am today. I am stronger and more resilient. I am more confident in myself, both in my physical ability and in my mental aptitudes. In some ways, I know more of what I want. Or less. But I'm able to weed through it all a bit better. I'm more compassionate; I've been through a hardship unlike any others in my life. I know where my weaknesses lie. I can do yogic breathing with the best of them.

So, I'm not moving on, or moving past. I think I'm moving parallel. Sideways, to another part of my life, and moving this very important part to the background, so other things can be in my foreground.

And in this time of thanksgiving and wishes for others, I hope that each and every one of you (if anyone's even left reading) find a happiness in your life that satisfies you. Whether you have a child right now, continue to keep trudging away at the doctors, appointments, wandings, stickings and whatnot; decide to stop trying for now or forever, I hope you can find a place and a state of being that fulfills you in some way.

Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for your well wishes over these few years I've been writing. I'll keep up with you all in the comments.

Cheers.