Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Baby Douchecanoe Summer Photoshoot

Guys, all I mean by that title is that this outfit makes my kid look like the kind of guy that's named Sammy, likes to skateboard on the boardwalk, says "dude" unnecessarily as well as unironically, and might not be the most respectful boyfriend you've ever had.
It's cute though because at least in this instance I have a chance to raise him to be the best boyfriend you've ever had. And just ask Haley, Ander's a great boyfriend already. He's not afraid to absolutely scream goodbye to you in a public place, he's all about that innocent PDA, and he likes it best when you're having fun.

Shoes are from Walmart, Tank and Booty Shorts courtesy of ye olde Goodwill.

I was honestly stunned to open up my blog dashboard and see that the last time I even opened blogger was back in January. It's been three solid months since I even thought about blogging. While the majority of that hiatus can be attributed to our moving, [still ongoing] renovating of three separate housing "units", and just being busy in general, the last almost month I've really struggled with how to talk about and deal with a very unexpected personal tragedy.
I literally just sat here for a good minute debating whether it constitutes using the word "tragedy" or if it will come across as facetious to give the event that much credit. And that's been my inner battle. Treating it seriously enough to deal with the emotions, but rationally accepting that it's not the worst thing that could have happened.
To avoid beating around the bush any longer, we'll just get straight into it.
Around the first week of March I took a pregnancy test and finally got the positive result I'd been coveting since late Summer of last year. It was a cheap test from Walmart so Mark was hesitant to believe it. So I bought digital ones, and they concurred with the first positive. We were pregnant! Finally!
I was barely 5 weeks along but keeping secrets is not my strong suit and I had always said that, "if anything were to happen I'd rather people knew so that I could have a support system," because that's what you say even when you don't believe that that supposed "anything" will ever actually happen to you.
So we told family, I bought Ander a couple of "Big Brother" outfits to wear to choir, our close friends knew, everything was great.
Right before bed about a week after our announcing, I got a little blood when I wiped after going to the bathroom. My heart skipped a beat, but I knew spotting was a thing, so I just slipped in a small tampon and went to sleep.
I woke up in the wee, dark hours of the morning significantly aware that I had bled through the tampon, through the period underwear I had put on "just in case", and through all of my pajamas.

Having read a lot now I know that my behavior following this instance was probably the first phase of grief: Denial. I talked myself down from the ledge of panic constantly until my OB's office opened so I could call and ask. Even after I heard back from the on-call nurse (as I had just left a message about the bleeding) and she flat out said, "well it does sound like you are having a miscarriage," I still told myself I would go in, get the vaginal ultrasound, and I would be one of those rare cases where the yolk sac is still nestled snugly in my uterus and all would be fine, my baby would continue to carry, and I'd have my Thanksgiving Baby.
All was not fine, my uterus was glaringly empty, in a most hurtful betrayal of my trust, and I left the office only to drive to a gas station and sob as I filled my car and avoided looking in the eyes of the strangers who blatantly stared at the crazy crying lady.

I think I managed to remain fairly dignified and rational as I rescinded our announcement to those that knew. And I was glad that I at least had people I could tell without having to start the conversation as, "so I was pregnant."
But again, having read through many an article, that was during my Numb period. I had cried, mostly in private, for a few days and now I was able to remind myself that there hadn't even been a heartbeat, I'd barely been pregnant or even known for hardly a week, and that it wasn't a big deal. And I truly believed it at the time. I think.
But then time kept moving, and the buzzing black cloud surrounding my head hummed with the constant reminder, "I should be pregnant right now." Yesterday my calendar chimed in that it was supposed to be my 8 week ultrasound appointment and here I was still putting in tampons and waiting to feel just normal again.
I think the most difficult aspect is being unable to bring myself to let other people know about all this without feeling guilty that I seem unable to simply "get over it" like I think I should, or like I think other people think I should. There's this automatic assumption that people will roll their eyes and judge me for being so affected and sad that I lost an embryo. I want to be perceived as strong, and sensible, and right now I feel so far from strong or sensible.
I feel weak, I feel emotional, I feel foolish.
I feel isolated, lonely, and vulnerable.

I don't know what phase of grief I'm in now, which makes it difficult to know what would be the best course of action. But I woke up this morning, got my kid dressed in a funky, cute outfit and took him outside with the dog to take some fun pictures. And that made me feel great.
Even in the midst of all my confusion and general despair, I can name one shining silver lining from this trial which is that it has brought me so much closer to my dear, sweet son. I appreciate him so much more, I am usually more patient with him, and I take more time out of my day to just sit and spend time with him. His spunk and humor and his squishy, happy face heals me.
So I'm sure someday that will translate to gratitude. I look forward to that day.