I found out that he had stopped at the store as well. I walked in around 7:00pm to find flowers on the counter, a letter and more chocolate. We surprised each other. We had dinner, watched a comedy and played a few games of Yahtzee. It was a nice, relaxing night, filled with affection and laughter.
Then it happened. Tears. Unexpected tears.
My husband was shocked, wondering, what the heck just happened?
Well, a woman’s hormones, that, is what! Poor him...I know!
Suddenly, the quiet house affected me. Some parents long for that, I hear it often. “Ooh, an alone night. Aren’t you lucky? I wish I had a break now and then.” I smile and say, “Yes. It’s going to be nice,” but silently, I think that they are the lucky ones.
Partly because with a divorce, the pain of being away from your kids for several days at a time, actually stinks. The other part is that I want more kids. I always have.
When I hear about other pregnancies and newborns, I am happy for the families, but I would be lying if I said it did not hurt. I think about how it would be if my last pregnancy had made it, I would have a chubby little pink cheeked baby sitting in my lap at this very moment.
One minute I think that I am okay. After four miscarriages, I say, forget it. I tell my hubby and everyone that asks that I am done trying. After all, if it were meant to be, wouldn’t it have happened by now? I tell myself that God has other plans for me.
I have had several D&C’s, several trips to the hospital, lots of cramps, many bills and way too many tears. I have had weight gain as a result of the hormones that would wake me up at 3:00 in the morning, because I was hungry, but no baby to show for it.
I have had pain.
I remember the excitement I felt when the pregnancy stick was positive.
I remember the disappointment I felt after the blood loss and cramping told me, "false alarm, no baby this time." I remember the 3-month check up that went really well. So well in fact, that we went to Babies R Us to sit in rockers, look at cribs, and push a few strollers around.
I remember talking about baby names, wondering what color the baby’s hair and eyes would be, and posting pictures of fruit on the fridge for the kids that showed what size our baby “was.”
I remember the tears that followed the miscarriages, and the tears that I cried when the nurses and doctors checked my blood pressure, poked me with needles and wheeled me into the next room.
I remember waking up on a hospital gurney feeling…empty.
Four miscarriages. Four babies. Almost.
What kind of person in their right mind would want to go through all of that again? Not me, I say, but then it happens. The overflow of emotions that mean, maybe I would…maybe I should…
I've had four miscarriages, but I have also had one baby. I do know what it is like to have a beautiful little baby sitting on my lap as I feed her. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to watch my daughter sleep and to make sure she was breathing. I remember her smell, her skin, her pink cradle cap comb, her first smile, her cry and the orange sherbet colored onesy that I loved to put her in.
A baby would make all of the tears worth it. Then I think, what if. What if we try again, and it results in another baby. Almost.
I am not sure if we will try again. All I know is that sometimes, when I least expect it, it hurts.
