I survived Christmas pretty wonderfully. I hardly longed for my big baby belly for more than a fleeting moment. It was easy to just think of something else. On New Years, it was just Mike and I. I was having a hard time not thinking about what was missing all day. I hadn't anticipated New Years as an obstacle until I woke up feeling that certain way. I think I had had a terrible dream leading into the morning but I can't remember now what that was. Mike and I had dinner and a few drinks and really just sat around. When he went to bed and was asleep enough I got back up. I had a little time to myself but after a bit he found me crying, rocking in the glider. I didn't have much to say and I was reluctant to go back to bed with him. He just pulled me up out of the chair and guided me back to bed. He payed there talking to me, waiting for me to say something back. I told him that I just want our son back. I don't rarely ad,it to feeling and wanting impossible things, but I really just wanted to hold my son. Even if it meant going back to the day in the hospital and doing it over again, I just wanted to hold him. Some days I a, so sad and full of guilt that we didn't hold him when they offered. I hate that he is up in heaven now, knowing we passed at the opportunity. It re,I da me of how much we were lost little kids in that hospital too,. In the same token, we had never been more old and made of stone. We just didn't know what to do. I also find,my told Mike how terrified I am that this was not a one time occurrence. He was almost mad at me for thinking that something in me could cause us to lose more babies. Eventually, we talked about how much we both wanted to be parents and how far we could go. Trying to make me feel better he said if he only ever had me he would feel fulfilled in life. I told him I wasn't sure I could ever accept never being a mom. I think I would adopt as a final resort. He agreed. I finally exhausted myself enough to fall asleep.
Since then I've done well at keeping busy. I found a book I love and have read 850 pages in three days. I have cooked and cleaned. I have worked hard at the gym. I stop for a second when I'm on Facebook or Instagram and I see that someone due near me has had their baby. There were quite a few people due around the same time as I was. I try not to think about what it would be like to be excitedly waiting for and then finally holding a living, breathing son. I feel robbed of the baby shower and the "no baby yet" texts and the misery of carrying a watermelon in my belly. I start resenting the things that I have done since August. Drinking, working out hard and heavy, trying to lose weight. Going to school.
I actually feel less sure now than I did when I was pregnant. I am less sure that I am capable of or even meant to parent. I don't know if I am up to the challenge. I don't know if I'll do a good job or if Mike and I will come together as a good pair in raising a child. I'm scared as much now of being a parent as I am of not getting to ever become one.
I think one of the struggles of New Years was what it represents. In 2010 when we started trying we thought that would be our last NYE as just a couple. This time it was a huge slap in the face. For four years I have planned around the possibility of becoming a mom. I have made choices about school and work and fitness based on the idea that surely it will happen soon. And here I am, four years later, and I am still in school, I'm still overweight, and I still have no work experience. I wonder if I'm just being irresponsible. Starting a family and then a career? It's my plan but does it even make sense? I wonder if I could, if I should, become a working woman, a money maker, someone that holds their own, and then try the family thing again later. Just wait. Just be a normal adult woman my age. Put my heart on a shelf, walk by and dust it every so often, and then pick it up and hope it still works when everything else has fallen into place. Follow the natural order of things. Maybe, even, take what we have gone through as a sign that we aren't supposed to be parents. Mike tells me all the time that it just wasn't our time. I feel like it was with my whole body but, clearly, it wasn't. Maybe we should just stop trying. I mean, if it's meant to be it will happen, right? Normal people don't have to force it. But I'm afraid that if I don't, that might really be the case, and it might not happen on its own, and I might not be ok with that. I know there is a hole in me and through all of this I think I still believe that being the mother of an earth baby is what will fill that hole.
And the point of all of that is that I'm doing ok. I'm keeping busy and trying to remember that I decided to rise above the struggle and overcome with leaps and bounds of success. I will get fit. I will get my masters. I will find more happiness. And while I do that, I'll keep doing ok.
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