May I be frank with you?
I realized that my last post may have been too vague. I tried to dance around what actually happened - but that's the whole problem - it's not something that deserves to be danced around. So let's back this train up again and start over at the real beginning.
I miscarried my first child in November 2010.
To say D and I are not planners is an understatement. I think the main reason we went from co-habitation to married was (and this is a direct quote) "The engagement ring you like isn't as nearly as expensive as I thought it would be." (Did I also mention D is a huge romantic? I'm just surprised the ring didn't come from eBay.) So when we found out I was expecting - our world tilted onto its side. Day was night, inside was outside, and cats were dogs. I mean -- we knew how it happened....but how did this happen??? Were we ready to be parents? Where are we going to put this kid in our house, the office or the guest bedroom or the VIDEO GAME ROOM? Should we move to a better school district? Should we move *GULP* back to Soybean City??
I started a journal to that baby. I still have the first (and only) entry. I read it now and am still astonished at how instantaneously elated I was. Reading it now, I hear no trepidation in my words to that baby. I was ready.
So get this: We were finally starting to imagine ourselves as real parents - you know - the people who DON'T go to Target at 2AM just because they can - I started to have this weird crampy feeling. Of course, I googled (trust - never Google) and I knew, knew in my heart of hearts, what was happening. I called my doctor's office, and they brushed me off, telling me it could be completely normal (I of course, zoomed in on their choice of the word "could") Cue the bleeding. You don't need me to go in to details. Trust, you don't. So the office had me come in. Remember the hoe-bag nurse? Yeah. She couldn't find the heartbeat. She assured me that "could be totally normal - you're still very early and the baby's very small" (there's that could word again) So she sent me down the hall for an ultrasound. This little gal was much sweeter, but wouldn't say a single thing, except "You're going to be fine. You're going to be just fine!" (weirdly assuring....but we could still go either way here). They took a little blood, and sent me on my way.
I full broke down in the parking lot. like FULL broke down. Ugly cry, sobbing, snotty mess. I am SURE I scared the hell out of every pregnant woman walking in or out of that office. I tried calling D 12389751765402 times, although I knew perfectly well his phone is sitting in his car. So, I call my mother - who didn't even know I was pregnant - to tell her I'm UN-pregnant. Neat. She said she's coming up that night.
It was the middle of the day (and I'd taken the week off for my birthday week - because that's what married un-childrened couples do with their vacation time - right?) so I awkwardly go home and sit on the sofa to wait for D and my mom. The doctor's office told me to come back in two days to draw blood again. I knew what they'd find.
I still remember - while I was waiting for D and my mom, I watched that Roller Derby movie with that chick from Juno, and Up. About every ten minutes, my brain would circle around the phrase "you are having a miscarriage right now." It was so farking surreal - it was like a joke. To go from children NOT on the radar, to becoming parents, to NOT becoming parents in the span of, what, 6, 7 days? Super weird. That, and "what a great birthday present" was the other thought that kept running through my head. Also weird.
Now, I'll spare you the details, because it's obvious how that ended (just as I knew it would as soon as Dr. Google told me so). D got me a July birthstone necklace to commemorate that baby. I wore it every day for a very long time, well into my pregnancy with Francis (more on THAT later).
People can say what they want about a miscarriage (you know - the facts - blah blah 25% of all pregnancies blah blah, you were only just a little blah blah, everything happens for a blah blah) but to say that I only have one child is just a lie. N's got the best guardian angel she could ever ask for - and even if things hadn't have happened the way they did we wouldn't even HAVE her - I still think about it every day. It's a part of who I am and has shaped me in to the person I am today. So that's pretty neat.
Just thought I'd clear that up.