So, I have to preface this blog by saying it will be sappy, emotional, and probably far more personal than any of you care to read.
But I have to write it.
As I find myself trying to pull out of a very dark hole, Chris encouraged me to write a blog about it. Writing seems to be a way for me to put my thoughts down and release the burden of holding on to them and... you know what?... that can't be a bad thing.
I've eluded to our fertility struggles on the blog before, but to make a long story short: we've been trying to get pregnant for a little over two and a half years. We've gone through plenty of stuff -- none too interesting or new to most people. This past month was a little more intense, requiring daily blood draws that made me end up feeling like some sort of weird human pin cushion most of the time. In the end though, it all seemed worth it when Chris and I saw a VERY faint positive on the pregnancy test last week. We both were cautiously optimistic as I headed off for yet another blood draw and then a whole day of waiting for the results. As I checked my email at the REI Starbucks between a school conference and grad class, I got the news we've waited so long to hear. Not only was I pregnant, but my numbers were labeled as "excellent". While I've always hoped to give Chris the good news in some creative fashion, I found myself mis-dialing our home phone number on the cell phone (and then mumbling something unintelligible to Chris once I finally got it right) outside the Denver REI store. Not so creative, but exciting nonetheless.
Everything was great. I immediately found myself worried that somehow this wonderful news would turn bad -- but that's my personality. Somehow along the road of my life, I found it "easier" to temper excitement with a little pessimism. That way I can't get too disappointed in the end. However, after a celebratory Starbucks date in the morning with Chris, I was driving to work and saw a church sign that said "worry is the thief of joy". It seemed oddly appropriate and I decided right then and there to not let worry ruin all the fun of the news that we had waited so long for. For the next few days, both of us were about as happy as two people can get. I, at least, felt like I was walking on a cloud. Suddenly 2.5 years of worry and pressure lifted and everything seemed worth any struggles we had gone through.
It's amazing how quickly everything can come crashing down.
After another blood draw and waiting for the news that everything was on track and good, Chris met me at work (rather than meeting me at the climbing gym as planned) with some terrible news. My "numbers" had plummeted and we lost the baby.
Now, as I have come to realize in the last few days, this is very common. In fact, everyone you talk to has either been through it or knows someone that's been through it -- and we know several people that have been through even worse.
Somehow, though, that doesn't make it any easier.
I have never felt so incredibly empty and horrible.
Instead of calling our family with good news, we had to call with "well, we had good news, BUT..."
That's not fun.
That night the horrible cramps and bleeding started.
That's also not fun.
At all.
There's nothing like that lovely physical pain to constantly remind you of what's going on.
It was a horrible night for both me and Chris. A night I get nauseous at just thinking about. I can now officially pinpoint THE worst day of my life.
As the days have gone on, things have started to look up. I can make it through the day without any major meltdowns. We even got out to the climbing gym last night to burn off a little frustration and pent up energy. The overwhelming feeling of trying to make it through the day isn't quite as bad.
I feel like I've been pretty strong through the whole fertility process. I've tried to see the good aspects -- for example, it completely challenges me in a way that nothing ever has. I can do everything right and still fail... but through that I've learned a lot about myself, a lot about Chris, and a lot about us as a couple. I appreciate those lessons.
While this is one lesson I could have, and wish I would have, lived without, I am starting to accept that things will get better. I still wonder if letting go of the worry allowed me to have at least a few days of total bliss, or if a little worrying could have ultimately tempered the shock and sadness. I think, though, that it was better to feel those few days of unexplainable joy than never to have felt it at all (I always thought that saying was cheesy and stupid, but now I get it). I can't believe the enormous support that our friends and family have shown us... and I can't imagine anyone going through this without it. I have the greatest husband in the whole world -- one who can put aside his own grief to focus on making sure I am okay in my darkest moments... I only hope I can do the same.
We are both still, undeniably crushed over what this week has handed us. Food doesn't quite taste as good, the sunrise is a little less pretty, and rather than walking on a cloud I feel like I am dragging an elephant around.
But we'll make it through this.
And one day soon, I hope to make a more happy blog...
