Secret Diary Post #1, originally written June 28th, 2012.

See the disclaimer here.

June 28, 2012

This post is being written in secret, with my fingers crossed that I don't accidentally hit the Publish button. You've been mistakenly under the impression that I've been neglecting my blog for all the barren space it's been accumulating lately. Or better yet, you probably haven't even noticed because my lack of content has dissuaded you from bothering to check. Regardless, my little pansies, this has not been the case. I am writing under cover, in the hopes of one day providing full disclosure...

It amazes me how much of a negative thing can be spun into a positive, if you look at it the right way. It truly is about the eye of the beholder. You think I'm shy? Nah, that's just me being politely demure. Quiet? That's just me being deeply intellectual without you knowing it. Hah! So, with that explained, my middle name is not Patience. This, one could argue, is a very negative attribute to possess. I, however, will argue that it makes me a do-er. I take action. I make plans. And typically, I accomplish what I set out to complete, like yesterday. This is all good and well except for when it comes to one of life's little nuances...

Babies.

We spend our entire lives trying to avoid the infamous two pink lines on that pee stick, that when you finally get the green light for go, it feels utterly foreign. Most females my age, I've discovered, share a similar fear landscape as myself - What if I can't get pregnant? What if something's wrong with me? The problem, you see, is that you just don't know until you try. And that folks is right where I'm at. Trying. Not doing, mind you. Just trying. It's a really devilish thing to do. This is the period (no pun intended) when you find yourself looking longingly at those who accidentally end up pregnant with awe. If that's not a spin on ironic, than I don't know what is! In all seriousness though, it can be a really frustrating process. 1) I only have 12 20% chances in a year. 2) It really DOES feel like something's wrong if it doesn't happen in the first month. Or the month after. 3) I have waited THIS long and now I have to wait even longer?! I remember being young, very young, and informing my mom that I wanted to start investing in baby gear. This way, I would have an entire chest full of goodies for when the time came to welcome my little bundle of joy into the world. Phew! Glad I didn't waste my money on that one. I don't think they even knew what BPA was in those good ole days. Any who, you get my point. Waiting can be frustrating, especially when you're a Type A like myself. I've already digested every morsel of information I can get my hands on regarding the subject matter and am now a master at differentiating times of the month. Baby books have already been purchased, which brings me to my next point. I'm currently finding great entertainment in reading, "Knocked Up: Confessions of a Hip Mother-to-be."

It's been completely reassuring and humorous to read about someone entirely unlike myself and her approach to pregnancy. It's surprisingly relaxing and so I would, so far, recommend it to anyone who is praying every other two weeks for those two pink lines.

In rememberance.

See the disclaimer here.

I mentioned in the last post that we had shared the news of my first pregnancy with a few people, including our families. Although things didn't work out, for posterity's sake, I'd still like to note how I went about doing so. 

At the time, I was so overjoyed that a simple phone call didn't seem quite adequate. Instead, I invited my side of the family over to our house for a small get together and pretended that I'd forgotten to give them a Christmas gift. A tiny box was wrapped and upon opening it, the words "crack me" were written on the underside of the lid. I had blown out an egg, painted the exterior and had inserted a small rolled up piece of paper that, once the egg was cracked, delicately revealed the news that we were expecting. It was the daintiest, cutest way I could think of to announce the news.

Unfortunately I don't have a photograph, but we varied our approach slightly for my husband's family. While visiting, we all went out to a local spot for some pizza and beer. I sensed that they were onto us so I made sure my order also included a tall Miller Lite and then proceeded to pretend to sip it. Oh, the trickster I was! We then offered them a small wrapped box to open as well. Inside this version, we placed two teeny tiny rolled up newborn boy and girl onesies. 

It was such a special moment with both families that, although the pregnancy didn't stick, I'll forever cherish. 

A loss, originally written February 22nd, 2012.

See the disclaimer here.

February 22, 2012

I dislike emotions. They're too erratic. Unpredictable. Irrational. So, it's true that I try to keep emotions out of my blogging. It sounds kind of odd stating it that way but sometimes posting about only the great parts of life can be a breath of fresh air. It's motivating and inspirational. It also affords a person the the luxury of appreciation. The small things don't go unnoticed. But you know, life isn't all about pretty pictures and DIY projects either. And I do respect the bloggers out there who are real and open and brutally honest. Life isn't always full of sunshiny days. So that's where I am right now. And I kind of think I'm going there. To a more cloudy day.

The truth is I was pregnant. And now I'm not. And it's been a terrible whirlwind of emotions. We didn't find out about the loss until our first prenatal visit. My body was still fighting to keep that pregnancy going even though the embryo had stopped developing. It was a really difficult way to find out. I'm sure bleeding is scary too. I guess there's really no good way. I won't go into the details but, I will say, I have so much more sympathy towards those who have to go through this further along. In that way, we were lucky. I wasn't showing. I hadn't seen a precious baby on the ultrasound and listened to a little heartbeat. I wasn't attached to small kicks in my belly. If anything, I was still trying to grasp the concept that I was carrying a small miracle most days. So in that way, we were lucky. This feels more like a loss of happiness. 

There were so many tests last week. Just blindly going through the motions. This week the reality is sinking in. The emotions are showing.  Passing the grocery store aisle stocked with diapers and baby food, it hurts. At work, being forced to do things which seem so meaningless, it angers me. Why the people who don't even want babies always seem to be the ones who have normal pregnancies, it confuses me. All of my happy blog posts I wrote in anticipation of sharing our amazing news, how I haven't been able to bring myself to delete them. And I'm utterly sad at the realization that the baby I thought I would be having in September is gone and so is the happiness I was carrying around for weeks. But, this is life. Nothing goes as planned. And all I can do is keep going and look forward to the day that this is behind me. Pregnancy is so surreal. I'm still hopeful. I haven't lost hope.

It's awkward sharing this. Somehow it seems like a secret maybe I shouldn't be sharing. But why? I took such comfort in every single person who had the courage to share similar stories before this experience. My sister asked me if I regretted sharing the news of our pregnancy to the few we told and my answer is absolutely not. Those people, family and close friends, have been such a great support in all of this. I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Life isn't hopeless. I'm still hoping for days full of sunshine.