The Realities of the Miracle of Life…

I have been wanting to blog about these thoughts for a while but it’s taken a long time because it brings tears to my eyes…

The Saturday morning mid-January when I found out I was pregnant, I must admit, I did not take the news as well as I had daydreamed I would. I had daydreamt that when I found out I was pregnant, I would jump for joy and scream with excitement, running to tell my husband the exciting news we would happily hug and kiss.

The reality was when the ‘pee wand’ turned very pink very fast with more than one line, I felt like I couldn’t breathe and that the walls were closing in on me. I totally panicked; I wasn’t ready. My husband and I were living by the mantra ‘whatever happens happens’ but I just didn’t expect ‘whatever’ to happen so fast. When I composed myself I went downstairs to tell my husband, tears broke as I said the words aloud and I couldn’t stop crying. Poor guy was so confused, he asked me, “Aren’t you supposed to be happy?” to which I gave him a slobbering, “Yeah I guess so.” I can tell he was very happy but too confused at my reaction to show more excitement. 

It took WEEKS for me to get used to the idea that I was pregnant, even through morning sickness I was somewhat in denial that my life is going to forever change. Even when I told family and friends, a part of me felt dread and I wasn’t as excited as everyone else seemed to be for us.

During my 9th week, I woke up in the middle of the night because I felt an incredible ‘energy of light’ radiating from my pelvis area. If I could see the light, it would have shined up onto the ceiling. It was very spiritual and something I’ve never experienced before, I assume it was the baby’s doing. Then during week 17 or 18, I felt my baby flutter for the first time. At first I thought it was a gas bubble on the move but it happened two or three times in the same area so I again assumed it was the baby. Still, I hadn’t felt particularly connected to my growing belly yet.

Then during my 18th week, a friend told me she’s just found out she’s pregnant after two years of trying and two miscarriages, each one a year apart. I was so excited for her, I felt more excited for her than for myself. She was also the first one to guess I was pregnant at nine weeks before we even told our immediate families. We’ll call her Friend #1.

During my 20th week, Friend #1 now in her 8th week, was concerned of spotting. I told her not to worry, all the baby books said it’s normal. The next day the spotting got worse; she panicked and went to her OB for an emergency check-up. They did an ultrasound and she saw ‘the little peanut’ with a really strong heartbeat. She was even told the baby was most likely safe because the heartbeat was so strong. She was so excited she told everyone that night.

The next evening, another good friend, Friend #2, told me she just found out she’s pregnant after years of trying. Again, I felt more excitement for her than I still felt for myself. Late that same evening, I got a text from Friend #1. She’d been in the hospital all day and night; she had a bad miscarriage. I was overwhelmed by sadness and emotions; it was the first time in my pregnancy hormones totally took over.

I cried for a very long time and didn’t sleep a wink all night. It was also the night I realized how lucky I was to have the baby growing inside of me. It was the night I really fell in love with my baby for the first time and the thought of losing him or her overwhelmed me with such sadness and fear.

During week 21, Friend #1 and I were in New York at a conference. We snuck off to a corner by ourselves overwhelmed by general baby talk. I was amazed at how well she was doing both physically and emotionally; it had only been days since her loss. Then she asked me at what point in my pregnancy did I connect with my baby. It was so hard to say aloud to her, I even thought about lying, but my eyes welled up with tears and I started to softly cry. I said it was the night she told me she had her miscarriage.

I’ve also known someone who miscarried at 12 weeks and was very physically ill from the experience. Having a difficult time to conceive embryos or having a difficult time hanging onto fetus’ is a reality for most women and a topic that is not readily talked about. Perhaps it’s just too difficult and the pain is too private. When I think about the women in my life who’ve gone through this, I now feel guilt and shame for being selfish and denying the fact I was blessed with life versus immediately loving my baby.

Now at 26 weeks, I can’t wait to meet the little munchkin inside of me. To hold and kiss him or her and to tell him or her how much I love them and how lucky I am to have them.