The last few weeks my mind has been flooded with thoughts of preparing for a newborn, getting ready to deliver, getting the condo ready for baby. I have to remind myself that the body and mind never forget. Even though I just had surgery and am focused on healing, my mind keeps relapsing to the fact I should be in labor. No matter how much I try not to focus my attention on the little one that I've lost, I never really do. Especially those landmark days that were supposed to have special meaning to them.
October 31st: the day we conceived.
November 24th: the day we saw his heart beat. (I still feel like he was a boy.)
December 23rd: the day we miscarried.
July 24th: our previous due date.
I was really thinking that Sunday would be a treacherous day that I would hide in bed and blow through about 12 boxes of tissues. Thankfully I have great friends and the most fantastic hubby who kept my mind busy to the point I only had one break down. Brought on by a family cookout on Saturday. I love how hopeful my family has been, but there are points that I have my doubts. And Saturday was one of those days. Knowing I should be swollen with child, but I'm swollen with scars, I kept thinking that maybe it's not in our cards. Maybe having our own children was just not going to happen. And I've come to accept that that is a possibility.
After my melt down in the kitchen with my mother in law, we spent the evening in Cambridge watching Hall Pass and eating Chinese food. We woke up Sunday with plans to visit my sisters, but that quickly changed when my nephews were not happy campers. So we hung around and decided to walk to Newbury Street for a relaxing afternoon strolling through the stores. We headed to Boylston Street and hit up Cactus Club for lunch. After a leisurely meal filled with guacamole,tacos and a gallon of water, we strolled back to Cambridge along the Charles. Starting to feel sentimental again, hubby and I walked hand in hand. Discussed moving to the city, which my husband despises the idea, but I've always wanted to try it. Talked about how nice it would be to wake up every weekend and stroll the Charles, walk to lunch, picnic under a tree.
Reality snapped back in at some point, realizing all of our friends are now moving out of the city and the fact that procreating is on the top of our list. (Raising children in the city is not optimal in our opinion.) But I'm at the point where I don't want to keep planning my life around having a child. The past 2 and 1/2 years have been filled with baby plans, preparing my body for the most nutritious pregnancy and figuring out how to afford this possible child. But nothing has worked out, nor gone as planned. So I've pretty much threw my hands in the air and succumbed to the fact that it will happen when it's supposed to happen and that I have no control over it.
Things seem to always work out once I give up. That's what always confirms that there has to be something greater out there, for me. Once I stop trying to control things and give in to the fact that I can't, things work out. Amazingly enough, just 2 weeks after surgery and 1.5 weeks on my new thyroid meds, I've already noticed changes, good changes. I'm no longer falling asleep on the sofa at 9pm, I don't yawn all day long and feel like I'm dragging through the day, I actually get hungry now and feel full (which never used to happen), and to top all of it off: my mucus has changed for the better! I used to only maybe see one day of clear mucus that indicates ovulation. The last three days I have had peak type mucus, a strong indicator that my body is preparing to ovulate, or already has. Fabulous sign that my system may finally be working properly!