I’m here to talk a little more about the M Word. The M Word that is miscarriage.
I don’t let myself think about it too often. Usually just once a week in therapy, where I cry and admit out loud how sad I am, and how much I wanted this baby. Someone told me that it was just a fetus, but to me, to me it was a baby. A child I imagined holding in my arms, bathing, experiencing the first laugh, first crawl, first steps…
Yes, it was a baby. If it was a girl, we were going to call her Sophia.
I recently deleted the list of baby names I had saved on my phone. My mother returned the baby purchases she had made the day before I miscarried. I deleted the pictures that the father had generated on what the baby would look like. What our baby might have looked like.
I need to get over the idea of our baby. We are not having a baby, and we won’t ever be having a baby.
One thing I have not deleted is my baby board I made on Pinterest. It is a private board that only I can see. It sits next to the wedding board that also only I can see. I feel like those two boards just mock me. As if I am just another 30-something cliche, mapping out my future on the internet, a future that gets farther and farther away from materializing. A 31-year-old singleton who quotes Sex and the City, shops for men on the internet, and plans for a future that may never exist.
I saw the father last night, the first time since our relationship dissolved two weeks prior. “How did we get here?” I asked. Then I laughed a little. “Well, I know how we got here. But really… how did we get here?”
Seeing him was good. I tested the waters, bringing up the possibility of starting over, going on a date. He declined. He doesn’t think we are compatible. I accept his decision. There is a certain sense of situational irony in this scenario. Two weeks ago he said he was serious about going on a date and starting over. In an emotional huff, I rejected that idea, rejected him, and gave up on the relationship. After some soul searching, I realize he was right, our relationship was broken, and moving forward in a kind of going-back-to-the-basics style would have been good. I don’t known if we would have ended up together, but I thought it was worth another shot. I still do. Although I am disappointed, it will help the piece I am working on right now, which is chemistry versus compatibility in a relationship. I’m still fleshing it out in my mind, but I will start working on it this afternoon.
It is hard to not only accept the loss of the child, but also accept the loss of that particular future I was building. In a way, the miscarriage allows each of us to move forward and find a suitable partner to possibly build a family with, whatever and with whomever that looks like. When I was pregnant, our relationship became extremely stressful, and I know I did not behave in the best manner. I freaked out and took everything out on him. I was really scared. I pushed him away, he pushed me away, then we would pull back together, and just when we got to a point where things leveled out, I lost the baby. It’s like a big cosmic joke. The universe giving us the giant finger. Mother Nature, the original honey badger, who truly does not give a shit.
Last night he said, “I felt like that was a snapshot on what our life was going to be like.” I told him I disagreed. I firmly believe that things would have been entirely different had our circumstances been different. We weren’t ready to be parents together. Not after four months. We were still in the fun dating stage, and that was taken away from us. Then everything got serious and scary. I don’t think it’s fair to say that is how we would have been in the future. If this had happened a couple of years down the road, married, or even not married, that relationship foundation would already have been built. We both wanted to be a parents someday, but we wanted it when we were emotionally and financially prepared for it. People said to me repeatedly, “Is there ever really a perfect time to have a baby?” Perhaps the answer is no, but there are certainly better times to have a baby than others.
He would have been a great dad. You can’t say that about every guy. And I know someday he will get the chance to be that “kick-ass husband and father” he talked about when we first met. He is always so worried about everything, but I know he is going to be okay. I believe in him, even when he doesn’t believe in himself.
As for me? Sigh. Preparing to start over once again is a very depressing and scary thought, but I know in time I will be okay. I have to believe that there is a family in my future. The loss of this baby and this family will be with me forever, but it won’t feel so acute forever. There will be moments where I think I’m doomed to be old and crazy and yell at the pigeons in the park, but I am going to hold out hope that my future will different.
New life plan: I’ll continue to work on myself, work through these losses, and hopefully find someone that I can grow old with. I know there is someone out there that I can grow old with.
Until next time ~B