Even I know we can't always be sunshine and gumdrops around here.
And I struggled big time while writing this post and sharing it with the web world.
But, it's a part of my life!
And that's why I blog.
To remember. To share.
May 26th, 2008
I remember walking up to my husband as he stood in the kitchen making dinner that night, hands shaking with that feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I had just gotten home from work, still wearing my scrubs.
I was
Unsure. Anxious.
Excited. Nervous.
Happy?
Although my husband and I were unbelievably shocked and most definitely unprepared for that little pink plus sign that quickly appeared before our eyes, we embraced our discovery with both our arms and hearts wide open.
Although we weren't trying, as a matter of fact, we purposefully not trying (Go us!) we began to embrace the new life we created and as that new life grew, so did our excitement. Each day I awoke and thanked God for this new life and before bed, I prayed each night that He would keep this new life safe and healthy, if that's what was meant for us.
I remember saying those words out loud, over and over again.
We bought baby books. We talked the name game. We pictured our baby inheriting my husband's curly hair, his freckles, my long legs and dark eyes, my allergies and our shared history of having to wear glasses since grade school. (Ha!)
Hubs patiently put up with my mood swings, my aversion to chicken and my ravenous appetite. He listened to me whine all day, every day about feeling nauseous. And absolutely exhausted.
We shared our news with family and friends.
We went on a previously planned vacation to Martha's Vineyard and each time I took at those pictures, I think, "I was pregnant then." Four weeks later, we vacation again in Ocean City, Maryland and I miscarried just shy of my 14th week, in August of 2008.
Just when I thought the worst was over
and I was in the clear; steadily trekking our way into the 2nd trimester.
I remember my husband running every single red light on our way to the nearest emergency room. I remember the admitting nurse, as she placed my IV, saying to me, "Is this your first pregnancy? What a bummer."
Never. In. My Life.
Admitting ER Nurse, if you're reading this, your cold bedside manner put many nurses to shame that day. I was embarassed for you.
Hubs and I look back now and we laugh.
My husband held my hand the entire time. He brushed my hair off my face and kissed my tears. He made phone calls I didn't have the words to make.
He held my IV bag during countless trips to the bathroom.
He did so much more.
And I knew then, God had other plans for us.
I can't say that my miscarriage shed new light on my faith, or that I wasn't angry with God or myself at times, because I was. I struggled. Some days, I still do. But, it did reaffirm that sometimes cliche and antiquated saying, "everything happens for a reason."
Someone told me, "Maybe God wanted us to have the perfect baby."
And that seemed like the best consolation at the time.
I knew we weren't ready.
People will say, "Oh, you're never ready!"
But we were still getting to know each other as
husband and wife. We still had places to see and things to do
before begining our family.
What I went through, phsyically and emotionally, strengthened my relationship with my husband in ways I never thought were possible. We grew together in both grief over what we lost and happiness as we made new plans for our future together.
My love for him grew tenfold
as I watched him push aside his grief to console mine.
We brought Sullivan home two months later.
And we couldn't be happier.
We make EXCELLENT dog parents.
Deep in my heart,
I know this is exactly where we are supposed to be right now.
I'm scared for the future.
I'm afraid that it might happen again.
But I know I have to have faith and trust in the simple fact
that there is someone else out there with a plan for me.
And if and when we see
that little pink plus sign again?
We'll be ready.
Afterall, those maternity Citizen jeans that I
spent a ridiculous amount of money on are
waiting...
tucked away in a box in the attic.
With our books.
And our journals.
And our very first ultrasound.