That Time I Miscarried

I got pregnant, years ago.  I had finished my grad program and was just starting at my current place of employment.  We weren’t married, though we’d been together for about 5 years at that point.  We were living together and about to go on a vacation down south.  I thought I might be so on my way home from work one day I picked up a pregnancy test and a bottle of wine.

I didn’t end up opening that bottle of wine.

When that test came back positive I cried.  It was not the right time.  This was not how we had planned it.  We were not financially ready.  We weren’t even married (not that I care about that, but it just wasn’t part of the plan).

We weren’t even sure if ever wanted children.

I’ve never felt particularly maternal.  I didn’t play with dolls or play imaginary house where I was the mom.  I do remember playing house where I was the one leaving to go to work.  I must have been seven.  Funny to remember that.

My husband was the same.  He had a bit of a rough childhood where money troubles and family stress were put on him at an early age.

We both love to travel.  We love our freedom.  We love spending quiet time together, and more importantly, quiet time spent alone.  We knew what we would be giving up by having kids.

We talked and talked.  We decided we’d still go down south, sure it would be fine.  My head was spinning and it didn’t feel real.  Four days later we were on a plane and I was coming to terms with it.  It sucked that I wouldn’t be able to drink while on vacation, but once I wrapped my head around it, I was OK with that.  I wanted to do it right.  No drinks.  No more smoking.  Only healthy food.

The first few days of our vacation we talked about our future.  We got excited about the idea of a baby.  About him being a dad.  Me being a mom.  It’s amazing how quickly that can happen.

We were doing this.

We were going to have a baby.

And then the bleeding started.  I remember sitting in the bathroom at our resort crying.  I didn’t feel relieved as I thought I might have.  I felt sad.  He was relieved (I can’t blame him) and didn’t understand why I felt the way I felt.

I couldn’t even understand it.

The thing is, if I hadn’t known, if I hadn’t taken that test and just waited I might not have even known I was pregnant.  But then I wouldn’t have known just how much I wanted to have a baby.

When the time was right.

When we got back I had this dream that we were laying in bed and we are woken up by our two kids – Marcus and Hanna – running into our room and jumping into bed with us.  In the dream they were beautiful and happy and we were so happy.  It was one of those dreams that feel so real and you wake feeling what you felt in the dream.

I felt happy and full and light.

So when the time was right, once we were married, financially ready and all that, I couldn’t help but think back to that day, to that dream.  To how much I wanted it.  To that feeling of possibility.

That wasn’t what made us decide to go ahead and try to have a baby.  I think it was more that we wanted to share in the experience of raising a person together.  We wanted to feel that love.  We were curious of what our potential kids would look like, who they’d take after.

And we figured, if we’re going to do it, we should do it soon.

Two months after we decided to go ahead and try I was pregnant and this time there were only tears of joy.

And although it’s been hard, it’s also been the most amazing thing.  Being a mother is the most amazing thing and it’s changed me in ways I never even imaged.  But more about that another day.

And no, we didn’t name our son Marcus 😉

 

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