Today is the dreaded day. Today marks the one year anniversary, or better yet memorial of our first child's birthday. (I immediately take a moment to rub my face and hide from the fact that I just typed that.) A year. A full year has passed. The memory has not faded, and the hope of being pregnant again to help lessen the blow, has not happened.
Instead I am going to be completely honest with all of you. I hate writing about this. I hate being the one everyone feels bad for. I hate that everyone knows what I am going through, what we are going through. I hate that it's Christmas in 2 days, I have no tree and barely any decorations up. I hate that the 2nd bedroom isn't a nursery, or that my basement isn't over run by toys. I hate when I'm holding my new niece, that no one has the nerve to ask to take her from me. I hate that I wake up at 4:30am, but not to a screaming infant. I hate the looks I get after someone reads a devastating post. I hate that even my closest friends aren't sure if they can ask what's happening in fear of sparking tears. I hate that our Christmas card, which I haven't even sent out yet, doesn't contain a 3rd family member.
But this is my life right now. I'm married, working a full time desk job, trying to get over months of depression. I am focusing on losing the 20lbs I've gained. (Yes, I said 20.) I'm attempting to be a runner and finish a 5k in the Spring. I signed up for a weaving class in a nearby town to hopefully rekindle my love for the arts. I hope with everything that I am, that I can get pregnant, and carry to full term. I hope that if I can't, that we are blessed with adoption. I hope that I can pull myself out of this pit of sadness to remember who I am, and how I want my life to go.
Control the things you can. That's what I plan to do. I could sit here and think that our child would be turning 5 months old, what they would look like, whether or not I'd have some serious bags under my eyes. But I won't. There's things that happen to good people that we can never explain. Things that make absolutely no sense. I hope one day I can come to terms with all that has happened. But for today, I am thankful for those 9 weeks, for the sound of their heartbeat and the image of them on the ultrasound. I am thankful that my husband is still by my side after months of fertility drugs. I'm thankful we were lead to Dr. C. I am thankful for Barbara, our nurse and all her support. I'm thankful to our friends and family always letting us know they support us. I am thankful for all of those who will never have to experience what we have. I am thankful I started writing this for all of you to read. I'm thankful for those of you who have reached out with similar stories.
Today I am thankful for Andrew. Our first son whom I will never forget and look forward to meeting in heaven.