This week I hardly have a brain, much-less a guest to share their story. It just didn't happen. But what did happen for me, was a ton of reflection. I don't know if it's the stress I'm feeling (school, adoption, work, etc.) or the inspiration I received at church on Sunday, the time of year, or just nature, but I have been thinking a lot about some of our first experiences with trying to get pregnant and the heartache and let down that accompanied them. We had some crazy times, and though so much of it hurt, I can't help but look back and feel a little bit of gratitude for how things have turned out.
When I was 17 I had appendicitis and had surgery and life was good. Except since that surgery I can count on one hand how many periods I've had (sorry if that's TMI, I really should come up with another name for it, especially for my brothers' sakes. They hate the 'p' word). Anyway, needless to say I'm not a girl that bursts into tears once a month because it's that time AGAIN and the cramps are horrid and I just can't take it. Instead, I'm actually one of those girls who drops to her knees and says a prayer of thanks for a healthy body that ovulated. So that being said, I had no basis for having any sort of clue or idea about if I was pregnant or not.
I'd dreamed of this day!!! I knew exactly what I'd do. And I did it! I sent a picture message to my best friend and asked her if the lines were dark enough to be accurate. I planned a trip to my home town so we could tell my parents in a super cool way. I wrote a clever poem to give to C's parents about grand-baby #21. I wrote another clever poem for 2 of my un-married friends about how my baby would call them their ants. I wrote a heart-felt poem for my brother and SIL about how crappy it was that we had a baby first but how they'd for sure be our baby's favorite. And the list goes on and on and on! I was elated.
But my sweet, realistic, caring husband was inspired to recommend that we go to a doctor and find out for sure. The events that followed are blurry. I had a night full of outrageous pain, in front of C's family that was horrifyingly embarrassing. I went to the doctor and he told me I wasn't pregnant. And all the while nobody knew anything because I had such elaborate plans to surprise everyone and so I'd kept it a really big secret! Which meant that I mourned alone. I had my sweet husband's support, but when the logistics were out on the table, he was at work during the day and I was home reading and re-reading the poems I'd written through my tears and pain.
And them came the embarrassment. How could I have seriously thought I was pregnant? I knew better! I'd had like 3 periods in the last 3 years. We'd only been married a year or so. I couldn't believe I texted my BF and now I'd have to tell her it wasn't true. I'd even made vacation plans and written poetry!! I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. And I felt so alone. So I never really told anybody about it. I shared bits and pieces with people here and there but I always played it off as no big deal, and I probably didn't miscarry, and it's all just a coincidence, and the lines weren't that dark anyway.
It's just been recent that I've really considered the reality of that time in my life. I have absolutely no idea if I was ever actually pregnant. And I certainly have no idea if I ever miscarried. I will probably never know in this life-time. But there are some things I do know.
I know that I felt pain.
I know that my heart ached, and sometimes still does.
I know that the let down after the escalation is brutal.
I know that thinking you're pregnant and finding out you're not it detrimental.
I know that the desire to have children is innate and immeasurable.
And as much as I know those things, and as much as I feel them, there are a few other things that I know and feel even more.
I know that pain is essential for growth.
I know that as deeply as my heart ached, my love for a child will some day be deeper.
I know that let down is a part of life and only makes you stronger.
I know that someday I will have babies.
I know that the desire to love children is innate and immeasurable.
The purpose of this life is not to be miserable. The purpose of this life is to have joy. And it is okay to mourn and feel pain, but I know that when we actively seek joy and do things that make us happy that we will truly find the missing pieces to our broken hearts.