I have to admit, I did wonder why we weren’t getting pregnant when I first went off the pill five years ago. I also have to admit, that I was thrilled every month when I got my period. Even though I loved my husband and wanted kids with him one day, at the time, I wasn’t ready to settle down, and I wasn’t ready to give up the life that I knew and loved for someone else, especially not a needy baby. After three years of “not, not trying”, we decided we were ready. It didn’t take long before that positive pregnancy test showed up, and I wondered if maybe all the years previous we were just having sex on non-fertile days. We were thrilled, and I was terrified, briefly mourned the loss of the cold summer beer I had been looking forward to for a few days, but mostly I was thrilled.
It was the perfect time to be pregnant. We were in the process of moving to another province, and by the time the baby was due (on my deceased father’s birthday), we would be all settled and ready to be a family. Since we had already been planning starting a family, I already had a birth plan in mind, we had names already picked out, and our future parenting style was already discussed and decided on. We started looking for midwives and birth pools and friends and family told us they’d come visit us once the baby was born, if only to get away from the snow and the cold.
Then, on Canada Day, right before we were going to watch the fireworks, I started to bleed.
The details of that first loss, are so horrible, I am not able to write or talk about it in great detail. It wasn’t just the physical and mental issues that come with miscarriage, it was the way I was treated by the people who were supposed to be taking care of me. Other than one nurse who was absolutely amazing to both my husband and I, I was treated very poorly by the staff at two different hospitals. They were cold, and talked down to me, were physically rough with me and kept me waiting when they didn’t need to. But I digress.
Needless to say, we took the loss hard. It changed us. We are not the same people we were before it happened. How can you be?
Since that first loss, we’ve been pregnant a few more times. We no longer get excited at the sight of a positive pregnancy test, we just murmur a few things like “Here we go again”, and “Hopefully it won’t take too long this time” and go to the walk in clinic. A few days or a few weeks pass, some tests are run, and then I spend a few more weeks bleeding. A few more holidays, other than Canada Day and my father’s birthday, have been tarnished due to miscarriage, most notably St. Patrick’s Day and Thanksgiving. I have to wonder if picking these dates is the Universe’s way of not letting me forget. That’s me, always looking for a reason.
I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that it just might not happen. We just might be a childless couple. I lay awake imagining what our life will be like. It won’t be much different. We’ll still enjoy life, as we do now. We’ll travel and party and hike with the dogs, garden and make things and work our dream jobs from the dream home that we will build and eventually move somewhere tropical, living out our days in the sun and the sand,with a nice cool beverage in hand. We’ll get to be an aunt and an uncle, and godparents and the cool old people who tell your kids all about the stupid things you did when you were their age. I’ll never have to worry about giving up my cold summer beer, or sushi, and we can pick up and go whenever we want, or stay out all night, because there won’t be any kids holding us back. It’ll be a great life, because we’ll be together, doing our thing. It already is our life.
But I fear that I will always feel like I missed out on something. Like I was left out, wasn’t invited to the special party that all the other girls were invited to. I already feel that way. Most people just has to have unprotected sex to get pregnant, and stay pregnant. Me – I gave up so many things, changed so many habits. I’ve given up cigarettes and I’ve started exercising more. I cut back my caffeine intake. I try to eat gluten-free and organic whenever possible. I rarely drink alcohol. I take my vitamins. Hell, I even stopped using plastic wrap, Teflon and margarine just to be safe. I track my cycle, and we’ve succeeded in making sex a chore, something that I never wanted to happen, and here I am, watching everyone else have “happy accidents”, over and over and over. Some of them plan it, and get it right on the first try. People who I thought never even liked children, are popping them out left and right. All of them are happy, and hopefully they know how lucky they are. I just hope that one day, I won’t be so angry and jealous, and can be truly happy, and not fake happy, for my family and friends who are procreating, because if we ever do get to have our baby, I want them to be happy for me.
It’s still up in the air. No one has said that we can’t have children. No one has found any reason why we haven’t, or can’t. Four different doctors have diagnosed me with “bad luck”. I’m not sure what the cure for that is, I might have to refer to some ancient texts.
I feel like something is going to happen soon. We’re going to find out either way. We need to find out either way. I need to get back to living life the way I should. I need to be able to properly deal with my anger and my depression. I need to be happy again. I need to be able to have some sort of life plan.
I need to get off this roller-coaster.