They call it a "chemical pregnancy", which to me is just ridiculous on some deep down level because those two words just don't seem like they ever would belong in a sentence together. One is so impersonal, and the other is the most "personal" thing I think this world has to offer. They need a new name. Oxymorons don't suit the medical field.
The doc said it could have been a result of the fever that I tossed and turned with for a day or two back when the stomach flu came and steamrolled me a couple of weeks ago. I, however, am convinced that this is what did it.
The week before I had the flu, I just knew I was pregnant. I had allllll the symptoms. And when I looked directly at my own pupils in the mirror, they told me so. I felt... excited. And somewhat unsettled. Am I ready to put on the 'Mother of Two Kids' hat? Why does this hat feel like it will be so much heavier and self-consuming than the 'Mother of One Kid' hat that is currently perched comfortably on my head? Why does it feel like comparing a fancy, stylish little pillbox hat to a gargantuan floppy sombrero? Will I disappear underneath it completely?
Despite these questions, I begin to feel more and more excited with each passing day. Baby names are whizzing through my brain. I'm mentally rearranging the house to make room for a crib. I'm daydreaming about the smells, sounds, joys of a new baby. I go there in my head. Which is 100% perfectly okay and right and good. I do not regret it with any iota of my being.
Then, I get the flu. I'm feverish and sleep a lot that whole day. When I wake up the next morning, something has changed. I no longer feel pregnant.
A few days go by. Still- no symptoms. But, I am late. My hope is still holding on. I take a test. Negative. I take THREE tests over the next couple of days. Negative. Negative. Negative. Now I am... more late. This never happens to me. I am confused.
A couple of days go by, and finally I start to bleed. But it's unlike any cycle I've ever had. Heavier and getting progressively more so with each passing day. Clotting. Nine whole days later, it still hasn't stopped. I am ready for this to be over, but it just won't stop.
So, that's where I am at. I have an appointment on Wednesday of this week to get everything checked out. I am told this will pass soon, that I don't have anything to worry about. Unless the bleeding gets heavier- then I'm to get myself to a doctor ASAP. I may become anemic.
I know this happens alot, that it is completely normal and says nothing about my ability to become and remain pregnant in the future, but I still feel... sad.
I feel silly for feeling sad. It was SO early. This is SO common. I did not ever expect I would feel sad over something like this. I was shocked to discover the distinct bitterness of loss in my heart. I mean, isn't it silly to feel loss? A bit... drama? It was just a tiny clump of cells.
I am mourning the immense possibility that was wrapped up inside those cells.
Also, (what's this?) I am feeling a little bit guilty. Like, if I'd taken more precautions against getting sick, or taken better care of myself, I might be writing a much different post right now. I know this is ridiculous. Yet still... I find these things hiding out in my heart.
So, instead of repressing these feelings, or hiding them from the people I love just because "oh, this happens to a lot of people- no one wants to hear it", I'm trying to ride them out. I'm trying to allow myself to feel them because I know they are valid and important enough to honor with honesty and openness.
So... hello out there. I am sad. I lost something that I loved this week, but I have hopeful eyes set on the horizon. And I've learned something important through all of this as well:
Sometimes it takes a little bit of loss to open your eyes and show you what you have been desperately longing for unaware.