I know people are expecting a pregnancy announcement soon.
I've never ever made it a secret that we aren't done. I feel like, despite it being NO ONE's business whether my uterus is inhabited, or ever will be inhabited again, that if I'm open and honest then people are less judgey when I announce another baby on the way. It's just best to prepare people. No surprises.
Additionally, I tend to time babies (not on purpose...) so that they land earthside around 20-21 months after the last one did. Okay, it's kind of on pupose now, FIVE kids later, but it didn't start out that way.
So when I got that very much anticipated pregnancy test POSITIVE in early August, it was like, "Yeah, okay, Miriam will be one next week, perfect timing."
But I knew it wasn't meant to be. I couldn't count on this one to stick. Oh I wanted it to work. I knew it wouldn't. I tried to brush it off as nerves, or early pregnancy worry or being paranoid, but I knew.
Then it became a matter of when. "Please, don't let me have a miscarriage today," I prayed. "It's Miriam's birthday. Not today."
Then, a week later, still pregnant, getting sicker by the day, "Please not today, today is my birthday. Not on my birthday."
Then for a week straight, "It can't happen on vacation, I don't know how to handle that. Please, not on vacation."
Finally. The morning after we got home, it started.
I knew it was going to happen, but that didn't stop the heartbreak. Or the hope.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe it was just spotting. I've spotted in pregnancy twice before and everything was fine.
Maybe. I knew probably not. But maybe.
By the next afternoon though, my hope was gone. The tiny fragment I'd held onto... I held in my hand.
Impossibly tiny. And gone.
I buried our Hope under my peach trees.
I told almost no one initially that I was pregnant. How could I, when I knew it wouldn't last? I didn't want to deal with UNtelling everyone, seeing looks of pity, of sorrow, of understanding. I couldn't deal with it. I appreciate love and support, but damn it, I was so relieved that no one knew. I couldn't even say it outloud, I was grateful not to have to tell anyone that our hope had grown wings.
But then, at the worst possible time, people started ASKING. "Are you pregnant?" "Will we be hearing an announcement soon?" It wasn't just one person or even two, it was happening a lot.
Oh. That was worse than not telling anyone. They didn't know. So of course people were wondering...
I know people only mean well. I know that if they don't know what's happened, they can't help but wonder.
But it hurts worse, having to explain.
I'm not an open person--not when it comes to emotions. Everything is fine. I'm great, life is perfect.
And usually it is! Really! So when it gets rough, I don't tell people. I don't let anyone in.
Miscarriage is so weird. It's weird because it's not real, not to the world around. It's small and a blip, and it doesn't necessarily incapacitate or injure.
But it is real.
It is hope and prayer and love and anticipation. It is physical changes and dreams and excitement.
Then, it's gone.
And it hurts so much you feel like you'll never stop hurting.
Then you berate yourself for feeling so deeply about something that was so little.
But it is real.
Tiny. Short-lived. Real.
Just because you can't see something doesn't make it not real.
So no pregnancy announcements from me today.
I swear, when it happens, I'll letcha know.