I woke up with a feeling of conviction. I was going to get up, and go to the grocery store. I was going to buy eggs, bagels, cream cheese, yogurt, chicken for dinner, and a pregnancy test. My period was due two days before, and there was a slim chance that life was not going according to plan.
See, the plan was to start trying for another baby when my first was two. Two seemed like a good age. A little less helpless. A little more communicative. Two years and nine months seemed like a good age difference.
The plan also included my best friend, who after losing her ten week pregnancy this summer, wanted to wait until I was ready to have my second. The plan was to be ready to move home, stationed closer to my family, the best of both worlds (i.e. my own home AND dinners with my mom), and to share in all the wonders and horrors of pregnancy with someone I love.
The box said to hold it in the pee for 5 seconds and wait for 2 to 10 minutes. I did it carefully, determined not to look until the full 10 minutes had gone by. I ate some food, furtively glancing at the timer ever 2 seconds.
My heart was racing. "Please don't be pregnant." I thought. "We're not ready for this. This isn't the plan." And then another little part of my brain thought, "Goodness, girl, you just love the drama, don't you?" Which made me smile a little. Because I do. I don't know how not to. I love having something to stress over. I also hate it, obviously, stress is the worst, but there is a teenage girl in me that loves having the attention because of the DRAMA.
The timer went off and I scooped up my daughter and said, "Well, let's go see if you're having a sibling."
Two lines. The pregnancy lines.
"Well shit."
I didn't want to be alone with this information. I tried to call my husband, no answer. I tried to call my best friend, no answer. Tried my husband again. And again. Nothing. So I called my mom. She picked up on the second ring. Oh no. Now I was going to have to tell her. I was going to have to say the words. It was going to be real for someone else when it wasn't even real for me yet. But I said them anyway. She was only happy. Only thrilled. Only positive and upbeat. She knew this wasn't what I had wanted. But she was happy for me while I couldn't be happy. That gave me the strength to tell my younger sister, and then my older. And my older sister encouraged me to tell my best friend.
So I called my best friend. She was bummed about our plan. But she listened to me worry and cry and gave me advice and tried to be supportive, and help me plan how to surprise my husband. My husband called and I talked to him, but didn't tell him. Not yet.
I went out and bought a shirt that said, "Best Sister" for my daughter. I taped the pregnancy test to a dry erase board and wrote, "We planned, God laughed. May 25th, 2019."
My husband got home and I filmed him reading our daughter's shirt. Reading the board. Being so confused. Being happy. Being worried. Then I shut the camera off.
He called his mom. His brother. His sister. They were all so excited and happy for us.
But I couldn't be. I didn't want this. I wasn't ready. I thought words like, "Bad dream." I thought things like, "Why me?"
I went to the dentist and had to check the pregnancy box. I told my cousin. I told someone who's wedding I'm going to be in a week before my due date.
5 days of being tired, of having horrible gut problems. Of worrying and feeling sorry for myself and being way too irritable with my poor husband.
And when I woke up on Sunday to find blood in my underwear... Once again I said, "Well shit." And I sat there for a long time. I wiped and wiped. But still blood. I called my husband to come into the bathroom. He seemed confused, worried, unsure. I called my mom. She was ever so helpful. Sweet mama. Good advice.
I was aware I was pregnant for 5 days. And then I just... wasn't anymore. According to the app, I was 5 weeks along, because pregnancy is confusing. I hadn't prepared myself for this outcome. I had told so many people. And now I have to untell them.
And I have to carry this guilt around like a shawl. Because for 5 days I didn't want it. I didn't know how to feel. I prayed that I would get excited about it. But it never happened. There were small moments of happiness. Feeling like there was going to be so much to look forward to. But for the most part I just stressed. And then I lost it.
I didn't want to miscarry, though. I didn't want to lose it. I wanted to be happy. I wanted a baby. I wanted to get to the point where I was excited. But it didn't happen. It's never going to happen. I had 5 days to adjust and I never did, now I have the rest of my life to wonder if I did it to myself.
I don't think God laughed at our plan. I don't think God laughs when He knows what's going to happen next. I just don't understand why any of it had to happen. Why did he put it on my heart to buy a pregnancy test that day? Why didn't he tell me to wait a week, because then I would have just thought I was late. Why did I have to know? Why couldn't I have just been happy, so that crying in bed at night over losing this little possibility of life made any sense?
It's gonna take some time. And I don't think my questions are all gonna be answered. But I will turn to God and pray and hope and with time... I will be able to grow around this horrible week.
