Who would have thought that two little blue lines would freak me out so much? The Man was ever so confident that we would be great parents and this was the start of an epic adventure. Through some investigative research and educated guessing, we were pretty sure I was 6-8 weeks along. (Side note: I am THE most ignorant person when it comes to cycles/ovulation/tracking. Seriously. I think I missed that day in 5th grade. We didn't "try." We watched the Notebook and lit a candle.) My family was coming down for Thanksgiving the next week, so we thought it would make the perfect holiday surprise.
Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend. Announcements were made, tears were shed, hugs were shared, fears were confessed - and then it happened. Black Friday. When the Man came home from work early that morning, I met him in the hallway with yet even more tears. He didn't say a word. Maybe it was the look on my face. Maybe God gave him divine intuition to spare my admission. Either way, we didn't have to say anything. We stood there for what seemed like hours, just holding each other - neither of us wanting to admit what was happening.
When the miscarriage was confirmed, the Man took it a lot harder than I expected. I knew what was happening to my body, but my sweet husband held out hope that things would be fine. My heart broke as I watched this incredibly strong and stoic man openly weep in the ER after the nurse gave us the news. I felt helpless. Guilty. A failure.
The lies that followed were abundant and harsh:
God knew I would be a horrible mom so He fixed my mistake. Served me right. I failed so many times in the past, why would God bless me now? I deserved this. I was too selfish. And on and on...
With the support of my incredible family, I clung to the truth that this wasn't my fault. God wasn't punishing me for the sins of my past. He wasn't blaming me. He wasn't disappointed in me. He didn't think I was incompetent. He has my life in His hands and nothing happens outside of His will. Overwhelming peace triumphed over the lies.
The Man and I decided that we would try again (read: P.S. I Love You and Kenny G) as soon as we could and I vowed that the next time around, I was NOT going to be such a hot mess. I was going to be prepared. Ready. In control.
To be continued...