Well, it was over this past Monday, but it's officially, unequivocally over.
There is no more baby inside of me.
And I don't feel as empty as I expected.
I had to ask Buster last night if something was wrong with me that I wasn't more distraught. Obviously I'm sad. Obviously I have been and am mourning the loss of my first-ever pregnancy.
But somehow, the realization that there is no longer a lifeless baby inside of me has lifted this immense burden of sadness and grief from me.
Not all of it. Never will it all be gone.
But the chunk of sadness and grief that rendered me a walking zombie has been lifted.
I feel some... relief.
Do you think I'm weird? Uncaring? Buster has reassured me that I'm not, but I can't help feeling it.
A good friend had a d&c after discovering a miscarriage at 10 weeks. She told me that she was in a vicious depression for 3 weeks, and that I should expect to really be hurting.
And don't get me wrong, I'm hurting. But I am ready to start healing. Physically and emotionally.
I have a theory on this. Maybe it's a bunch of horseshit, who knows. But it's my current theory on perhaps why I'm feeling so... resilient?
I have learned to expect disappointment. I know pain and sorrow. I know yearning and wanting and jealousy and sorrow. Never to this level, granted. But I've experienced years of it.
And it has made me stronger and more resilient than I ever could have imagined.
Someone who has not endured the same kind of struggle, a process that is coming up on it's 5-year anniversary, may be more heavily affected by the news of a miscarriage.
Does that make any sense?
It does in my warped mind.
But as I said up above, I am hurting. But I'm ready to move on. The d&c was the biggest hurdle in my way, and now it's done. I'm ready to get back to being me.
We have three snowbabies in NYC. We will be doing another FET when my body gets back to normal. I realize that my next period may not be for 2 or 3 months. And I'm ok with that (although I was bummed to hear that initially). I plan to use that time to focus on me. Much like I did after my failed IUIs in the beginning of this year, I am going to work on becoming a healthier me.
I have gained six pounds since the start of our FET. And even then I was seven pounds heavier than I was when I lost the 20+ pounds. I think losing a bit of this pudge will make me feel better. Right now I have to wear the stupid belly band to fit in my pants, and I reallllly don't want to keep having to use that thing. I'm ready to throw it in the box with all my pregnancy books and magazine and not look at it for a while.
So that's where I am today. I'm starting my recovery. Starting to allow some optimism for the future in.
Per my request, the POC (products of conception... aka my baby and all the stuff surrounding it that was removed from me yesterday) was sent off to be tested for chromosomal abnormalities. As off as this may sound, I'm really hoping it was a chromosomal issue. I don't want this to be immune related. I want it to be bad luck.
Today I have to do something I've been putting off since Monday. I need to tell my grandparents about the miscarriage.
They were on vacation in Palm Beach this past week. They got home last night.
I didn't want to tell them while they were on vacation. I know they will be devastated. I can't even explain to you how excited they were. They LOVE babies. LOVE.
And in a different way than my parents. I think it's mostly due to the fact that my parents have no grandchildren. My grandparents have eight. And they LOVE babies. Have I mentioned that?
I got a text yesterday from my grandma that they had safely arrived back in Pittsburgh. She also included some cute baby girl names that they heard while around the pool at their posh hotel.
So, now I have to break the bad news. And I know it's stupid, but I feel guilty for ruining their day. I know, I know. That's asinine, right? But I can't help it. That's how I am. I'm a people pleaser, and I hate disappointing anyone.
And they will certainly be disappointed. Not in me, I know. But still.
Do I text? Call? Stop over? I don't know what to do.
I didn't have to do this with my parents, as they were in the room with me and experienced my heartbreak first-hand. So, I don't have this kind of experience.