thinking about what could have been

November 12, 2009 at 9:09 pm (Thoughts) (, , )

I was never a “baby person”. I was never one of those women who oogled over babies, had to see the baby, hold the baby, make cutesy wootsey sounds to the baby. Growing up, I never wanted to be a young mother. I would always say, when I turn 30, I’ll think about it. Then when I turned 30, I’d say, yeah, sure, I’m thinking about it. I think a lot of people would be surprised that we planned this pregnancy. There were just other people who seemed more into the whole starting a family thing. But we were ready. It was our time.

I went off the pill in June, with directions from my doc to wait a couple of months before actually trying. I also started taking folic acid every day. I had been eating healthy for over a year (not pregnancy planning related, just trying to be good) and exercising regularly. I was playing hockey a couple of times per week, plus going to yoga. I was healthy and in good shape. I was reading articles online about trying to conceive, looking at ovulation calendars, planning out when I was going to put M to work on some baby making. He would make jokes about how confident he was in his sperm. Mid-September rolled around, with the days that I had highlighted as our best chances and we gave it our first shot. (This was the site that I liked the most for finding my most fertile days: A couple of days during that week, I complained about cramping and M would joke that say that I was definitely preggers. He would send me emails at work and call me mama.

On a Friday near the end of September, the waiting was too much for me. I was due to have my period the following week. We decided to go for it and just buy a pregnancy test to see.  As I stood in the aisle, I checked out the variety of boxes and chose one that said “Know 4 days sooner!” I was about to walk away when I saw a pink box that said “Know 5 days sooner!” That was all it took to get me. I grabbed the First Response and was on my way. We waited until the next morning to do the test since it says that the first pee of the day is the best one to test with. Before I went into the bathroom, we made a pact that we would close the door and not look until the full 2 minutes was up. I unwrapped the package and read and re-read the instructions even though I had read them numerous times the night before. I followed the instructions, carefully placed the stick on the counter, and closed the door to wait. It was a fairly quick two minutes as we lay together on the bed, wondering what we would find on the other side of the door. As the two minute mark arrived, we walked hand in hand to the door. I opened it and blinked.

Two pink lines.

Clear as day, no doubt about it. There were two pink lines. I was pregnant. Gleefully, we hugged and kissed. We took a picture of the pee stick (weird, I know, it was my idea not his) and a picture of my still flat belly.

Over the next few weeks, we talked excitedly about our baby. We had already chosen names for a boy or a girl. We went to Babies R Us to look at baby furniture and other items we would need. Upon arrival, M truimphantly parked in the “Expectant Mothers” parking spot. I protested since I was only a few weeks in and not showing in the least. He said he didn’t care. I was an expectant mother and we should take advantage of the prime parking spot while we could.

I had a nightly ritual of looking at several Week By Week guides to chronicle the progress of my baby., and were my favorites. I would excitedly report my findings to M, who smiled with amusement at my descriptions of fruit-sized embryos. (At week 5, it was the size of an orange seed, at week 7 a blueberry, at week 8 a raspberry…) It saddens me immensely to think about this now. My little blueberry is gone. The little girl I had dreamed about holding in June won’t be there. I know, I know it can still happen, but this baby was so real to me. I already loved it.

We had planned to tell my mom I was pregnant on my birthday. We had picked out a card. We were going to tell her that her baby was going to have a baby. We were going to tell our closest friends the weekend after that. It was supposed to be the best birthday ever for me – the excitement of telling my mom on my birthday had been building up for weeks. Instead, it was one of the saddest days of my life. It was so incredibly difficult to pretend to not only be fine, but to be happy. I thought it would be such a happy time for all of us. Christmas was going to  be wonderful as we announced the news to everyone.

It was supposed to be perfect. But I had a miscarriage instead.


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