Basically, I’m going to be completely honest about my back story and how this blog came to be. Mostly because that’s how I am in general, completely honest with no need to bullshit, but also because I know there are going to be people who don’t like me and are pissed at my story. So best to weed you out from the beginning. So here goes…
Growing up I was never one of those girls who wanted children. Kids made me nervous, they snotted everywhere, and they appeared to be fragile; too easy to break. Then I got pregnant in March and I completely changed my mind. Of course at the age of 26 for the past year or two I had found myself enjoying having babies around and playing with kids unlike I used to. Sometimes I even thought, “maybe these things aren’t so bad,” but I never changed my mind about not wanting children of my own. I was, and still am, a huge backer of Childless By Choice. I figured I could enjoy kids without ever having my own. This, in part is why I think some of you may not like me or my story. Because I didn’t realize what a special gift we have been given as women until I got it. Trust me, I know how special it is, I did then, I just didn’t think it was something I wanted or would be good at. I especially didn’t think I would be good at it, and sometimes I still wonder if I will be.
So back to March. I can’t say as soon as I found out I was pregnant that I was ecstatic. It was more scared shitless. I had only been with my Significant Other for a month. Just long enough to make a baby. Another reason I think people won’t like me, or will at least think that I’m not thinking things through enough. Well you’re wrong. Like I’d never been a baby person, I also had never been a relationship person. I didn’t want to have any connection to someone else, that is scary, that is how you get hurt. But meeting my SO completely changed my mind. I’ve never understood people who rush into marriage 6 months after they’ve started dating, but I also had never been in love before. Who am I to judge at this point? I was trying to figure out if I should have a baby with someone I had only known for two months (we worked together so we knew each other before we started dating.) Regardless my range of emotions went from, “how do I tell this to someone I’ve been dating for just four weeks that I’m expecting his baby?” to “he’s definitely going to leave” to “how can I afford a baby and where will I put it in this tiny apartment” to “do I keep this baby or not?”
I was lucky. I told my boy friend and he and I decided we would take a few days to figure out what we wanted to do. He never blinked, never stuttered, and most importantly never ran. He held my hand and we figured out what we wanted to do. He wanted to keep it but ultimately left the decision up to me, and I had no idea what I wanted. He told me he would be by me no matter what, he was just happy I told him and took his opinion into consideration. At the end of the day (or the end of a few long days) I knew I wanted to keep it. Not because he did but because in my soul searching I had done in those few days I knew I wanted a baby. I knew I wanted his baby, and I knew I wanted this baby. I had fallen in love with it as soon as I found out about it, but I’m too pragmatic to instantly decide that I was keeping it. I had still needed to weigh all the options. In the end my heart won.
So we did everything you’re supposed to do. I went on vitamins, changed my diet, quit drinking, he stopped smoking around me, and I set up my doctor’s appointments. We were excited. We didn’t necessarily know how we were going to make it work but we knew we would. Especially, as cliche as it may sound, knowing we had each other. So along came May and with it came my first ultra sound. I was nervous going in; I think somewhere deep down I knew things weren’t what they should be even though there hadn’t been any signs. I said to my boy friend “what if there is no heart beat?” His response of course was, “don’t worry. There will be.” There wasn’t. A week later we went back for a follow up ultra sound just to make sure we weren’t wrong with our dates (I knew we weren’t I’ve always been extremely regular) and there was still nothing. Three days later I had a D&C and went through probably the most emotional state of being I have ever been in.
I cried, I got angry, I got jealous at my best friend when she found out she was pregnant two weeks later, then guilty when she miscarried two weeks after that. All in all it was the entire emotional gamut. Eventually I calmed down. I still have bad days, I’m sure I’ll have bad days for a long time. I’m not looking forward to December 8th, my due date, one bit. But I learned something. I learned how much I do want a baby. I learned how special it is to be a mother, even if for only a couple of months. I also learned who was there for me. I had told people before I should because I knew they would think it was weird when I wasn’t drinking all summer (I had always been a drinker and work in a party environment. It would definitely be noticed.) I didn’t have one person look at me with pity. I didn’t have one person say those “hurtful but without realizing it because they’re trying to be sympathetic” phrases like “well it wasn’t meant to be,” or “at least you know you can get pregnant.” I got hugs, and “just let me know if you need anything”s and stories from people I didn’t expect to hear stories from.
So after it all I went back on birth control. For a month. One night my boyfriend and I had a long talk and eventually I felt like I was at a good place. He wanted to start trying right away and I hadn’t been sure. Until that night we talked when I realized that whether I got pregnant the next month or seven years later I wouldn’t be any more or any less scared. I’ll always be nervous but I was too the point where that was okay. I knew I could deal with it when it came. So here we are now in cycle 3 trying to conceive our take home baby. And that is something I plan on documenting. When I talk about my miscarriage I’m often looked at like “why the fuck are you talking about that?” We’re expected to talk about the happy things. Ignore the fact that you lost one baby and focus on the one you’re trying to make, or don’t talk about it at all until you have one you can actually hold. That’s not fair. Not to me, or anyone else who has miscarried. Why pretend something isn’t real? According to my doctor miscarriages happen to 1 in 25 women. That’s a lot. And they’re all expected to shut their mouths. I won’t do that.
Now, to let you know, I’m done with the heavy stuff. I just needed to get my story off my chest first thing. I’m usually a little sassy and try to be as humorous as possible (even if I’m the only one who laughs) so the posts from here on out should be a lot lighter. Maybe not always, but more often than not. I plan on documenting our ups and downs trying to conceive, I’ve thought about doing a few beauty box unboxings and makeup reviews, and who knows what else but I can definitely guarantee a lot of ridiculous rambling about nothing. Especially when I’m past my waiting week, have started Aunt Flow, and have decided to treat myself to a few too many glasses (large glasses) of wine. Those posts should be interesting…
Either way… Until the next post!
– ❤ S.