I find myself holding myself a couple steps back. Things come and go in life – I read things, see things, think about things – and I hold in a breath and kind of float above it. I can feel the grief clenching in my chest but I turn away. Not right now – later.<\/i> I can’t handle feeling like that all the time. I can’t handle thinking about it all the time.<\/p>\n
So I float.<\/p>\n
::<\/p>\n
All I can think about is being pregnant again. That will make it better. Not “all” better – it will never<\/i> be “all better.” But it will make life livable again.<\/p>\n
There’s a part of me that is trying to stay realistic and remind myself that it could take a lot to get pregnant again, could take IVF and lots of patience and time. But I don’t want to think about that. The larger part of me keeps thinking, It has to work. It has to. It will happen soon, soon. Just a little longer.<\/i> I can’t bear to think otherwise.<\/p>\n
I think about it all the time, hoping, wishing. I think about all the people who are praying for us, who are thinking about us and hoping for us. But then I think how we all wanted Devin so very very much. A lot of good that did. No, losing Devin has certainly not made it any easier to have hope in anything.<\/p>\n
Well, I do have hope. And it scares the shit out of me.<\/p>\n
::<\/p>\n
Today I went shopping with my mom for new clothes. My wardrobe is\/was in some serious need. I had spent last year’s clothes “budget” on maternity clothes, which was great. But then I got un-pregnant and realized my normal clothes, they kind of suck. Some are old, some scream “young kid” which I certainly do not feel anymore, and some simply don’t fit my post-pregnancy body very flatteringly. So we went shopping.<\/p>\n
I’m trying to stick to shirts that float away from the body in a flattering, non-mumu type of way. My usual fare of close-fitting shirts only emphasise the overhanging flap of belly and makes me want to scream. I found a couple. Far more I had to put back because of the wanting-to-scream thing. A few times I was tempted to buy something because it was really my typical style and “would fit me once I got rid of the belly.” But then I figured that buying clothes for the future – especially ones that were currently quite unflattering – would not exactly be the best idea. I don’t need a closet full of clothes that I can wear “later.”<\/p>\n
::<\/p>\n
I got my haircut today. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, we were shopping at a strip mall and there was a SuperCuts there. I decided to go get it done, as my hair hadn’t seen scissors since December and was sorely overdue for a snip. I had intended to get my hair cut shorter before the baby arrived. Yet another thing that I never got around to doing.<\/p>\n
So of course there was chit chat. How long I’ve lived here, where I moved from, how I met my husband. The typical fare. I wondered if she’d ask about children. I tensed up about it. But the question never came, so I relaxed.<\/p>\n
Five minutes later: “Have any children?”
\n“No,” I respond, knee-jerk reaction. Short pause. “Well… Had one.”
\nSilence but for the snipping of the scissors. No reaction at all. Not even sure if she heard my amendment. “So you’re out shopping with your mom?”<\/p>\n
I don’t even know if I was relieved or disappointed. But at least I wasn’t in tears. I’m going to have to work on a reply for next time… I’m so used to saying no.<\/p>\n
::<\/p>\n
I just want to know that everything is going to work out in the end. I want to know that our family tree will have names beside Devin. It wouldn’t be so hard waiting if you knew when to expect it, or at least knew that at some point things would happen. But there are no guarantees. Sex doesn’t always mean pregnancy, pregnancy doesn’t always mean a baby, and all the positive thinking in the world doesn’t guarantee a happy ending. And that just fucking sucks.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I find myself holding myself a couple steps back. Things come and go in life – I read things, see things, think about things – and I hold in a breath and kind of float above it. I can feel the grief clenching in my chest but I turn away. Not right now – later. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":71,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[76,69],"class_list":["post-1097","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-ivf-3","tag-loss"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1097","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/71"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1097"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1097\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1097"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1097"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/lunardreams.net\/baby\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1097"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}