Waiting

It was a strange Friday, the day after we found out we lost the pregnancy again.  I stayed home from work, remembering the last time (we also found out on a Thursday), I went and just stared into space at all the meetings I attended.  As I'm someone who is generally known for being pretty smiley and upbeat, it wasn't difficult for people to notice something was off and question it.  Therefore, I stayed home and logged into my laptop, able to get work done but avoid really any contact with anyone.

I expected to feel depressed, weakened, and generally hopeless.  And I did feel those things to some extent. But my overriding emotion, surprising even to me, was relief.  Now, don't get me wrong -- absolutely not relief that I lost the being that was already so dear to me.  Rather, it was just relief of knowing.  It was freeing.  I didn't necessarily realize it until the weight had been lifted, but this pregnancy was absolutely miserable and stifling.  The first trimester isn't known for being enjoyable anyway, and my experience was amplified by basically living in absolute terror each day.  An overwhelming fear of the future, and the expectation that all was just constantly ready to crumble around me.  And then it did.  Again.  And yet, once it did, the removal of that oppressing fear was one of the best feelings I had in a long time.

We were so prepared to be done with fertility treatments before our second cycle (the first pregnancy).  We had an expectation that it wouldn't work at all, and we felt comfortable at the time knowing our decision would be to not take that path any further.  But then we did get pregnant and a whole new world opened to us.  I told my therapist at the time that my biggest concern after that miscarriage is that I wouldn't know when to stop again.  That I now knew I could get pregnant - a huge accomplishment given it took over two years to even get to that point.  She said simply that I would know.  We would just know.

And on Friday, when I realized how much I hated the anxiety of the last six weeks (really 3 months when you count the IVF cycle itself), I knew.  I don't want to do this again.  I can't do this again.  It eats up every part of me when I do, and especially with these now two losses to weigh on me every day in any future pregnancy.  And the pregnancy itself can't just "happen".  It would take an enormous amount of time and resources to allow me the "privilege" of feeling this miserable.

My husband came in the bedroom as I lay in tears on the bed amidst my pregnancy symptoms that were still in full swing.  As I tried to swallow back the need to throw up everywhere, he said to me that this convinced him.  He was not willing to go through this again either.  So, ultimately, we did know.  My therapist is pretty smart.

So, now I'm waiting for my physical body to catch up with my mental state.  I'm ready to grieve and move on to a new adventure, but yet my body has yet to show any signs of understanding that need.  I have had zero spotting, very minimal cramping.  I still really want to avoid surgery again, but this waiting is tremendously hard.  I don't wish it upon anyone.  I was hoping the bulk would occur over the holiday weekend, but at least I think that I can handle it at work given that it was a fairly early loss.  It will be such a bittersweet time when it does happen.  It will be the cementing of our loss, something that can never be removed from our memory and hearts.  But it will finally allow us to move forward, and I still have the utmost optimism that we will have a complete family someday.