When Other People Get Pregnant...

There are several issues that come with publicizing your miscarriages.

When my loved ones share with me that they are blessed with the news that they are expecting a little blessing of their own, it introduces (or re-introduces) a whole slue of emotions. While they are all perfectly justifiable, they are not always pretty. These emotions also follow a pattern of sorts, but it's anyone's guess as to which order I will subconsciously submit to them. They aren't really problems. They just... are.

Before I get ahead of myself, I want to state a fact:
I have some of the most incredibly sensitive, understanding, and loving friends that a girl could ever ask for. That sounds totally mushy and cliche, but I promise you that I am a thousand percent genuine when I say it. They are the absolute best, and I wouldn't trade them for all the riches in the world. And there is nothing wrong with a single thing that they have said or done in regards to this post, my miscarriages, or anything else on that front. If they ever read this post, I want them to know that they have done absolutely nothing wrong, and I'm not sure they ever will. I love you to pieces. Honest.

Here's the typical series of events:
1. The pregnant party's sharing of news, and reaction to my reaction.
2. The reminder of my status.
3. Living with the memories.
4. Coming to terms with reality

1. The pregnant party's sharing of news, and reaction to my reaction.
Over the past month, two of my dearest friends, who I consider myself to be very close to, have told me that they are pregnant. I won't lie - when the last one told me, I actually screamed from excitement. What an incredible blessing! TWO couples, whom I absolutely adore, are going to experience the miracle that is pregnancy and parenthood! Oh, God is so very good, indeed! And I get to walk along that exciting road with them!

I have prayed for them. I have prayed for their marriages, for the health of the mothers, and for the health of their babies. I have asked God to please spare them from the hell that is miscarriage, and to give them the most perfect little creatures that they have ever set eyes upon. Just because they are pregnant does not mean that I cannot pray for them. On the contrary, I will pray, and I will pray fiercely. There is not a single iota of my being that desires either of these two precious women to come within a million miles of the heartache that I have endured. And I'll be honest... I will be downright pissed off if any of my loved ones has to suffer that kind of loss, either for the first time, or again. That's an entirely different facet of my relationship with God that will need some work... but, in the meantime, I can pray against that for all of them.

When I say that I am blessed with having the best friends ever, I mean it. Some women who have suffered from miscarriage and/or infertility have had to deal with insensitive people who make the most outrageous comments, or who have no regard to the feelings that the woman who is suffering might have. When both of these precious women told me that they were pregnant, they were sensitive, thoughtful, and courteous enough to do the following:
1. They told me individually.
2. They were concerned about me - not only in that moment, but in the future.

That is one of the biggest blessings that I have received, and it is such a small thing! Not only did they tell me in one-on-one conversations, away from the eyes and ears of others, but they told me before they told our mutual friends. They didn't do this because I deserved to know before anyone else, I assure you. By telling me individually, before making the announcement public, they gave me time to process the news on my own, and prepare for the day when that news was shared with everyone else. Talk about a major blessing. When I say that they were concerned about me, I don't mean that they pitied me, or gave me some monologue about how they understand if I'm not happy; nothing like that. They simply wanted me to know that I could let them know if it ever gets to be too much - too much baby talk, too much emotion, too much anything. That means so much to me. They didn't say it for pity's sake, but so they could remain conscious of how I was feeling during their pregnancy. I'm choked up typing these words, because that, more than anything, tells you that these women are incredibly caring and selfless. In their greatest moment of joy and celebration, they're concerned about the state of their friend's well-being. I am overwhelmed every time I think about it.

2. The reminder of my status.
To be honest, any time this type of marvelous news comes about from a new source, it's always a reminder of my status. My baby-less, empty-womb, I-should-have-a-baby, I-should-still-be-pregnant, I'm-still-getting-over-this-crap status. There's no way of getting around it. I've learned to accept it, but it doesn't make the emotional roller-coaster any easier. It is what it is.

3. Living with the memories. 
However, being reminded of my status also means that I am reminded of the hellish ordeal that I have gone through - twice. Each miscarriage experience totes around a whole suitcase of emotions and memories that I get to open up and relive... and, believe me, it is not by choice. I try my absolute hardest to shove the most difficult memories and emotions waaaay down into the corners of that baggage, but they have a tendency to wriggle their way up to the top the same kind of way that my car keys tend to wriggle their way to the absolute deepest, darkest corner of my purse when I don't want them to.

Shoving those memories and emotions down, down, down often means that they resurface in strange and uncomfortable ways. After this most recent time that my sweet friend shared her news with me, I had a lovely nightmare to remind me that I'm not quite okay:
I dreamed that I went to the bathroom to take care of some lady business during the most glorious time of the month. Out of my body and into the toilet came a fully-developed infant's head, encased in the lovely stuff that surrounds infants fresh out of the womb. Yes, I gave birth to a baby's head - just a head - in my toilet. It was about the size of my cupped hand. Its eyes were closed, so I opened them; they were a strange blueish hazel color that I have never seen.

My subconscious did a great job of screwing up my mood for the day, that's for darn sure. Actually, for a couple of days. Freaking jerk.

You see, it's not just the deep-rooted emptiness or envy that gets stirred up inside when people who have no babies hear about other people getting pregnant. It's the subconscious crap, too, and the fact that all of these memories and emotions that we work so hard to bury deep down and hide away in order to get back to a sense of normalcy get yanked out of the corner of the suitcase in a split second. When everyone goes home, when the lights are turned out, when no one is paying attention, that wound gets ripped open again in an instant, and it feels as though you accomplished no amount of healing in all of the days and nights that have passed you by.

I promise you, it's not just baby envy.

4. Coming to terms with reality.
Dark, neverending nights turn into dawn, which turn into days, and those days eventually pass, whether you recognize it or not. Sometimes they go by quickly; other times, they seem to take an eternity. No matter how long it takes, though, you have to come to terms with reality once again. This time, I did it by moving my baby items from the closet into a dresser drawer. I can shut the dresser drawer and not have to look at it every time I go to the spare closet to look for something else. I can shut those emotions in that drawer, too, and keep them there until I have to deal with them again.

I'm not having a baby any time soon. I've come to terms with that reality yet again, and I'll have to reckon with that frustrating truth sooner or later.

For now, though, I'm going to try my absolute hardest to forget my woes. I just want to focus on being happy for and supportive of the people who I love so dearly, and their little ones that I will adore as soon as they arrive. They deserve at least that much from me.