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Unexpected.

1 Mar

I’ve been going back and forth for the last hour or so  – should I write an upbeat recap of last night’s drunken oscar fest? Should I talk about…

Well – yeah. There’s not going to be an oscar recap. That’s not what this blog was started for.

I went to bed at 8am this morning, after the all night party. At 3pm, I finally woke up.

I’ve had two weeks of non-stop work insanity, so I purposely cleared my day today. All I did was the minimum work I needed to do, and I watched some mindless TV that had been sitting on my hard drive for the last two weeks being ignored.

But despite catching up on much needed sleep – I spent all day today feeling like crap. My back’s been hurting, and so has the lower right part of my abdomen – on and off for the last few weeks. I’ve mostly been ignoring this during the last couple of weeks – but today I started going to my old fallback – Dr. Go Ogle. And feeling panicky on and off all day.

Just not completely “here” – you know?

It could be because of the weird sleep schedule. It could be that I took my zoloft later than usual. Or it could be the elephant in the room.

Yeah – that. I have an appointment tomorrow to get a tattoo. I would have had a baby in my arms sometime in this next week – had life taken me in that direction.

But it took me somewhere else. It took me to getting two butterflies tattooed on my ankle tomorrow. It took me to different types of birth.

I don’t know how I should be feeling right now. I’ve made peace with what’s happened on a lot of levels. Anyone reading this blog would know this.

But why did I have such a backslide today? Looking for phantom symptoms, googling them, freaking out.

Reading loss blogs of strangers and playing out scenarios in my head that inevitably lead to the conclusion that I’ll never be a mommy.

I read studies on progesterone supplementation during early pregnancy, and came to the conclusion that they probably won’t help – and I should expect a third miscarriage.

I read other women’s stories of loss and imagined them happen to me. I get pregnant again. I make it to the second trimester. I don’t make it any further.

I have childbirth complications.

I die.

Yes – freaking out of imaginary scenarios in my head instead of dealing with the issue at hand. That little nagging thought that’s been hanging out in my head. Not dealing with the feelings.

This was my day today. My clear “mindless” day.

Shmerson got home late from university tonight, and I asked him how he was feeling with the looming would-be date.

He said that he wasn’t feeling anything much. Like he blogged about here – his emotional responses are worlds away from mine – because it wasn’t his body.

It was my body.

I don’t think I trust my body.

I’m looking at things clearly now for the first time in the last week. I haven’t eaten healthy at all, my caffeine uptake has gone up significantly. I’ve probably gained two pounds from the sheer amount of chocolate flavored, doughy things I’ve put in my body for the last few days.

I drank yesterday for the first time in three months.

I was excusing it all – things really were hectic. I was working like a dog, really. I had looming deadlines, endless calls, classes to teach.

But now that I have a moment to breathe –

I don’t trust my body. That’s why I don’t respect it.

What if my eggs are damaged? What if I’ll never be able to keep a baby in my body long enough for it to come out healthy?

What if I become one of those 5-timers, 6-timers, more… What if… What if…

What if my baby had developed and this blog would have never happened – and I would probably be in some hospital somewhere right about now breathing and bearing down.

I don’t know if I’m making any sense while writing this. I don’t even know how to feel. I feel detached from that thought. I don’t know what I was expecting to feel. Maybe something more substantial.

But all I can manage are a few tears. And my usual endless cycle of self torture. I just hope that this time it passes soon.

I go in to get two little butterflies tattooed on my ankle tomorrow. Last week, my therapist asked me why I felt the need to tattoo my pain on my body.

I didn’t know how to answer her. I don’t know now, either. I just know I’m going to do it.

Maybe it’s to prove something to myself. Maybe I’m expecting to let out the last of this black grief through the pain of it. Maybe it’s none of those and I’ll regret it a year from now. Though I doubt the latter will happen.

But what if I leave that tattoo parlor tomorrow feeling just as detached? Feeling that this was a fruitless exercise?

Feeling like I had accomplished nothing?

I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling today. The day my first child was supposed to come into this world.

I just know it wasn’t what I was expecting.

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6 Responses to “Unexpected.”

  1. slcurwin March 1, 2011 at 03:32 #

    Good luck with the tattoo tomorrow. Just because you can’t really express the reason for the tattoo doesn’t mean your doing something wrong. You know inside that it’s what you want.
    I want to get mine becuase it’s always inside me and I’d like it to be outside me too (not that it may make sense to someone else). My tattoos show what is significant to me and my losses have been extremely significant (no shit Sherlock, hey?). Two of my tats have to do with my hubby (no I dont have his name on me) and one is a butterfly because I was obsessed with them growing up and I’m still a big fan. I also want “do not judge lest ye be judged” on the back of my neck for the honesty of it and humour factor of being judged for being tattooed (among other things).

  2. Marie March 1, 2011 at 04:33 #

    “What if my baby had developed and this blog would have never happened – and I would probably be in some hospital somewhere right about now breathing and bearing down.”

    Yeah, but… This blog never would have happened.

    It’s crazy to think of the what-ifs, because of everything you have to sacrifice to get that fantasy life. I mean, just selfishly, just for our little group here: if your baby had developed, there would be no live Oscar blog, no ChocoBuddies, no transcontinental friendships with a bunch of women you’ve never met. I get it – the baby would be worth WAY more, of course s/he would. But there is some value in this, too.

    Your due date is today? So I’m too late to tell Shmerson what you’re supposed to do on your due date. But for future reference: you are supposed to do SOMETHING on your due date. You are supposed to acknowledge it in some way: take the day off and spend it together, be together, love each other. You don’t have to talk about the significance of the day, just make it a significant day. I have a whole facebook album from mine.

    Hugs to you both. Can’t wait to see a photo of the new tattoos.

  3. Elphaba March 1, 2011 at 15:32 #

    “What if my baby had developed and this blog would have never happened – and I would probably be in some hospital somewhere right about now breathing and bearing down.”

    This struck a chord with me. Can I say that if you hadn’t started this blog, then we would never have met? Obviously you’d rather have your baby, but maybe there is a silver lining there? (And I see Marie just said essentially the same thing.)

    Honestly, we didn’t really acknowledge our due date. I’m not sure why, but I think I wanted to just pretend it wasn’t happening. That the nine months before that didn’t happen.

    Don’t worry about how you feel–just feel it. I’m constantly surprised by my reactions to things over the past year and half. You really just don’t know what you’ll do until you’re here.

    Big hugs to you both on this day.

  4. mommyodyssey March 1, 2011 at 16:54 #

    Hi ladies,
    You’re right. Last night when I was writing this, my mind was having that very same conversation with itself. I am so grateful to you. All of you.
    *hugs*

  5. missohkay March 1, 2011 at 18:30 #

    Wow, I could have written this myself. I don’t trust my body either and have had some pretty vivid fantasies of things going awry. We moved on to adoption with the intent to go back and try again when we’re ready, so I still have all the same fears. I felt like my third pregnancy was a loss before I even got pregnant, so I definitely get it. But there are happy stories in recurrent loss blogs too. Mission Motherhood is almost to 3rd trimester after 2 losses. Barfing Rainbows & Unicorns just had a baby boy after 3 losses. I hope and pray you have smooth sailing with #3.

    • mommyodyssey March 2, 2011 at 00:55 #

      Thanks Missohkay. I’m gonna look over at those blogs. Optimism would be awesome right now. 🙂

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