this week i’ve been a little down.
i passed another one of my due dates. the coworker who was due within a couple days of me is at home with her infant son. or, if you’d rather be morose in a different direction, my first baby would be 10 months old right now had it lived. why do this sad math? dunno. can’t seem to shake it.
it is probably easier this time that i am currently pregnant, but as we know there are no guarantees with pregnancy and i’m still holding my breath for this one… it would be mo’ betta’ if i were actually holding my kid right now, ya know?
and since admitting in my Christmas letter to people we don’t see often that we’ve had multiple miscarriages this year and are bravely attempting a third go at it, i’ve heard back from many of them who have had their own variation of horror this year. many of them had losses at later dates and in scarier ways than mine. i love LOVE love that we can talk about this and that we women aren’t just pushing the grief inside, but instead sharing it….but i hurt for all of them. i worry for all of their (blessings, yes, but still scary) current pregnancies and i panic with them as any abnormalities are found along the way.
and i hear reflected in them a regret or almost guilt that they aren’t more gleeful about their current pregnancy. like we expect ourselves to somehow forget and move on and plan for a positive outcome that we’ve never known. it just seems like a lot to ask. and that it is the last thing we need to do, putting pressure on ourselves to be unabashedly happy when it seems naive and premature. it’s hard. it’s scary. there are no promises. we just have to hope and pray and attempt to stay optimistic.
sigh. i know i’m a downer today. sorry about all that.
on a lighter note….this came from a funny pregnancy question/answer page.
The more pregnant I get, the more often strangers smile at me. Why?
~‘Cause you’re fatter than they are.