May is right around the corner and has always been one of my favorite months, mostly because of the warmer weather and blooming bushes and flowers. When I married almost 9 years ago, I deliberately chose this month. For me, May simply meant promise.
This year, things will be different. May 5 is the due date for the child I lost in September.
When I found out months ago that I was pregnant (after 2 and a half years of trying) and that the baby was due in May, I thought it was a miracle and a true blessing from God. Little did I know that my world would soon shatter.
May 5 was to be my golden day, my day when my miracle would be in my arms. This brings to mind a poem I found several years ago:
A Golden Day by Paul Laurence Dunbar
I Found you and I lost you,
All on a gleaming day.
The day was filled with sunshine,
And the land was full of May.
A golden bird was singing
Its melody divine,
I found you and I loved you,
And all the world was mine.
I found you and I lost you,
All on a golden day,
But when I dream of you, dear,
It is always brimming May.
This sums up what I really feel. I had my dream, but she slipped through my fingertips, leaving nothing but a memory and a mark.
I wonder if I will feel any differently after her due date passes. Will it just be a difficult day that I must get through? Will the days afterward bring the enormous amount of healing that I need? Will I finally be “ok” from here on out?
I try to stay busy these days, keeping my mind and body occupied but it seems that the reminder of what I lost is everywhere I go. I go out and about and everyone is either pregnant or carrying an infant. Literally, they are everywhere I turn my head.
Work is particularly hard. There are two women who are pregnant, about as far as along as I would have been, who are having their showers tomorrow. I can’t stand it, because I know I should be right there with them. I’m not jealous. I just hurt and I don’t know how to make it stop. It makes me want to run as far as I can and never look back. If only that were possible.
Another co-worker’s wife had a shower last week and there is yet another co-worker who is newly pregnant. I’m not particularly close to any of these women, but the sight of their bellies is just too much. Just the other day, I was having a conversation with one of them and for some reason, she kept stroking her stomach over and over as I was talking to her. It felt as if my throat had plunged to my stomach,
So, yeah, work sucks, but it is the only thing paying the bills.
Speaking of bills, they are unpaid. This is the time that we would have been saving for and planning for our IVF, but we are swapped with medical bills from pregnancy failure number two which I can only refer to as our pseudo-pregnancy. So, here we are, not saving and not planning for much of anything.
Do we try again on our own? In an unbelievable twist of fate, I’ve gotten pregnant twice in 5 months after years of trying. Of course, both of those pregnancies were lost. I asked my ob-gyn about repeated loss testing and she felt as if this wouldn’t really tell us anything. She believes that both losses were “random” chromosomal problems, unrelated to each other. Maybe she’s right. I just don’t know.
I want a child, but trying again frightens me. It frightened me after my first loss as well. There are so many things that can go wrong and so much that has to go right. I need one healthy egg and one healthy sperm to do what they are supposed to in order to make a healthy child.
I need a miracle. I guess we all do.