The weirdest thing about this experience is that nobody can tell you what you’re supposed to be feeling. Everyone handles it differently, it seems. Some people don’t even consider it a loss…they just take it as a sign from the universe that their time hasn’t come yet. Other people go through long periods of mourning and treat each loss no differently than you would treat the loss of a beloved family member.
I think we’re more towards the beginning of the scale. In fact, one of the things that I’ve vaguely been struggling with is that everyone assumes it’s more tragic than it really is. I can tell, because nobody wants to bring up babies anymore. At my age, everyone and their cousin is getting pregnant left and right, because we’re right in the middle of that whole family-building chapter of our lives. You would think, I guess, that it would be hard for me to hear about all of these pregnancies and hold all these cute, squirmy kids, but if anything it’s sort of the opposite. Some people might react to a loss like this by wanting to just shut their eyes whenever they see a pregnant woman, but I want to run up and invite her to lunch so I can hear all about everything.
Fact: I am freaking baby crazy right now.
Unfortunately, I can tell that it makes people uncomfortable when I talk about it. I don’t think anyone wants to bring it up because they don’t want me to feel sad and when they do talk about pregnancy, it’s mostly stories about people who have had miscarriages. I’m interested in that as well, since it might help us on our journey, but in the end I really just want to talk strollers and hiccups and potty training. Boring stories about how hard it’s been to put them down at night? Yes, please!
It’s an ironic reality (yes, I’m using “ironic” wrong, but you know what I mean) that by talking about wanting a baby and not being able to carry one, I’ve been outed from conversations about babies all together. People are now more likely to tell baby stories to friends who aren’t the least bit interested in babies and couldn’t care less (*cough*Janean*cough*) than they are to tell me anything.
I just found out that a friend of mine is expecting her first…and she’s about seven months along. I don’t know if she was hoping I wouldn’t notice until I also had a baby, at which point she’d whip him out from behind her back and go, “Surprise! I have a toddler!” When I called her out on it, she admitted that she found out she was pregnant right around the time we started talking about this whole thing and she just didn’t want to bring it up. I can appreciate it and I love her to death for that kindness, but I did have to point out how misguided it is. She’s not having our baby. Nobody is. So I can’t really be jealous of her or anyone else, because the thing we really want is our baby.
The thing I don’t blog about and the thing I don’t talk about is also the thing that people aren’t talking to me about. No good. While I appreciate sensitivity and help, I’m really hoping to just make this a part of my life that isn’t tragic or uncomfortable or secret. It’ll help us out a lot and ultimately, we’ll do better when we do make it through a pregnancy if we’ve had good practice at staying positive. So that’s the plan.