So I found out I was pregnant.
Jimmy was 6 months old.
(I know, right?! I know.)
It's amazing how quickly I was cool with it. Not cool- excited. Stoked. Ready. Willing. An hour after finding out, I had a new budget, and had already mentally thrown away, moved, organized, purchased bunk beds, saved money, stopped working, and had 3 kids. Kids come to our home. We love them. We will take them.
Grandmothers were informed. For excitement purposes and to make sure next year they knew they were going to have to help. A lot. (Both were excited.)
Fast forward a few weeks.
(I know you know what is coming.)
Bleeding& cramps. Died a little inside. I knew.
Fast forward 3 days. Go get an ultrasound I had scheduled previously. Turns into long tiring, stressful, two days of tests & wondering. Verdict: Ectopic pregnancy.
I mean, can't I just mourn in peace? Can't I just move on with my life without extra needles?! "No, I'm sorry," they say.
I guess it does make it easier that there was never going to be a baby anyway. Either I was going to miscarry or it could've killed me. Either way, same non-baby outcome.
I caught it so early we completely avoided surgery or long-lasting health effects. HUGE BLESSING. Please don't think for a second I don't think about that every minute. (That would be awfully ungrateful, no?)
I'm still recovering. The only word to describe it is EXHAUSTION. Mentally, physically. I seesaw between feeling tired&a little sorry for myself, and then feeling guilty for not being more grateful. (And let's face it, a touch of relief. Who doesn't want kids 15 months apart?)
I am tired of having to explain why I didn't go to work & disappeared for over a week & can't function lately, but at the same time I am dying to tell everyone so they can tell me it's ok and so they can cut me some more slack. (What a low opinion I must have of my fantastic friends& co-workers. Like they don't cut me& everyone more slack than they deserve?!)
I definitely feel like I've joined a club. The Miscarriage Club. Women who have had a similar experience know me better than I knew myself this week. The secret is there are actually TWO clubs with the same name/qualifications. I think everyone starts in the Emotionally attached/sad/wondering Club...and then most, quietly and without realizing it, move into the Closure Club. I'm not a member of that club...yet. It will come.
Hopefully more babies come to our home. Hopefully maybe less-soon.
Hopefully I can start sleeping better& stop being so tired& start feeling like myself again.
Experiences make us stronger. New experiences, especially. I'm learning to share more of my feelings with Brad. To trust him instead of just stare at HGTV all day. (Or Food Network. I mean, Beat Bobby Flay?! I love tv!)
Anyway, I think this year has been crazy. From start to finish I feel like I've been in washing machine. I really hope I can come up for air sometime soon. Perhaps there are some greater lessons to be learned from all this. (Duh. Of course there are some greater lessons to be learned.) If I am humble enough to learn them is another story.