I’ve typed the first sentence of this blog over 30 times and keep deleting it. Part of me doesn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to revisit the past. I don’t want to feel like I did three years ago – but as time passes, all I find is that the feeling I have tried hiding is denial. Denial that I will ever be ‘over it’. While there are days that I felt normal – full of life, there are the days where the fear of knowing that I’m not okay – that I will always be a little bit nervous and anxious about infertility.
So why am I here? Why did I come back? Maybe it’s because during the worst days, I had a group of ladies who were there for me. That knew what I was going through, and I felt powerful by reaching out to them- writing to them and for them, while receiving the very same comfort in their own writings.
I’m here because I’m scared. I was so happy with how my life was going. Getting strong, working towards a new career, relocating – everything was exactly how it should – until I realized I was late back in October – and a HPT confirmed – I had indeed gotten pregnant.
I blogged about what it would be like to not be trying, and miraculously get pregnant. How incredible it would be, to have such a wonderful surprise- but as I sat there, staring at the very dark double lines…. I cried. I cried because I didn’t want to be back here. I didn’t want to miscarry again. I didn’t want to want it. I wanted to join the police department. I wanted to run and travel and drink Margaritas with my husband on Friday nights. I didn’t want anything to change.
5 YEARS of trying. Chlomid- dr. ‘s appointments, post coital exams (**shivers**). I didn’t want to return to it. since I’ve never been able to get past 5 weeks of being pregnant, I stayed in denial the first full week…. and part of the second week… I called the OBGY and told them, and they told me to come in if I make it to week 7- 8. I’ve heard that before, but never made it. I loafed around my apartment in a daze. What the hell did I do? How did this happen?! Well… I know exactly how and when…but how was this different from any other Friday night with the husband? Week 8 came. I went to the hospital with my husband. We parked in the garage. I passed the labor and delivery room, and saw all the pregnant women and babies, and I lost my shit.
I sat in the car and cried so hard, I couldn’t breath. Full out panic attack. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t belong there. I was infertile, and I will never be pregnant for that long. I can’t carry to term. I felt like an absolute fool for even acknowledging that I was pregnant. My poor husband- he didn’t know what to do, other than help with the snot running down my face.
Thoughts ran wild through my head. My mind fought constantly between the though of wanting and not wanting this. It’s not that I didn’t want to have children- though I was entirely comfortable with the idea of it then- I didn’t want to want another child, only to lose it. What if I go in there, and they tell me it was a false Positive? What if they tell me I WAS pregnant, but it never developed? I know that I can’t get pregnant, why do I want to put myself through this again, and be surrounded by women who could?
I changed into the gown- sick to my stomach with anxiety of confliction. And then she showed me the tiny flicker of the heart beat. I looked at my husband and broke down again. I was pregnant. We sent the pictures to his family, and my family- and everyone was over joyed- except for me. I hated the idea that I am still stuck in the mindset that I am infertile- that this can’t happen to me.
I am 10 weeks, and still worried. Still in denial. I dont want to talk about it when my friends ask how I am. I tell them all my other feelings, and act like I’m not pregnant. I tell them about work, and the dogs, and the latest news article I read. I talk about what my husband and I are going to be doing for the holidays. Then I hate myself more for being in denial.
Will I ever accept it? I’ve been very sick, but then I wake up days like today, and I feel fine, and I immediately think ‘It’s over‘. I dont want to in denial. I want to be happy for this. This is what I wrote for so many years right? This is exactly what I wanted when I endured the dr’s appointments, and the drugs and tests.
My husband tells me that if it ‘doesn’t work out’ (meaning I lose it), I can call the PD and be reinstated. If It does work, then we will have a family. But I’m just not ready to accept it – I’m afraid that even just blogging about it, will jinx me- or that once I start accepting and wanting this, I will lose it.
So I’m here, because there is fear in the truth that I’m pregnant. I’m terrified to accept it….. and I need you ladies in what ever capacity you can provide comfort, or advice, or something.
I have my next dr. appointment next Friday – I’ll be just shy of 12 weeks. I’m so nervous I could throw up. What if it stopped growing at 8 weeks? Why is there so much fear?