What an interesting ride

I abandoned this blog over a year ago. To catch you up to speed, I started this blog to document the process of expanding our family.  I found out I was pregnant with my fourth child and was hoping that blogging would provide me with perspective and clarity.  However, one morning in early June that all came to a halt as I tried to shuffle my children off to school and daycare before falling into pieces as I realized I was miscarrying.

Cut to to present day-I have had two miscarriages and I am still trying for that mommy of four status. I forgot the blog and, in self-preservation, blocked out my excitement of documenting the journey of our family as we expanded.  Imagine my surprise when I tripped over the blog while trying to complete a school project. It took a few days to be ready to re-read the posts.  Looking back, we were so happy, so excited, and so surprised. We had no idea what struggles were on the horizon, or how strong we were going to have to be.  Norman Rockwell was going to paint me, remember?

Well this year has been a doozie.  We had our first miscarriage when we were just about nine weeks and only days after we told our family.  We found out we were expecting again in August.  We were so anxious and afraid to be excited, but secretly excited nonetheless, only to miscarry in early September, just two days before my birthday.  So began the furious quest for a baby.  I thought that if I was pregnant by the first baby's due date, the pain would somehow go away.  I wasn't pregnant by then and the pain got worse.  I thought if I was pregnant by the second baby's due date, it would make the whole world right again and bring lightness back to my heart.  I missed that deadline too, and I was running out of places to hide from the pain.

Six months ago I sat on the couch and cried to my husband.  I can only imagine that as he was looking at me, my face must have been that of someone drowning-filled with fear, panic, sadness, clawing desperation, and pleading. In my head I was screaming, "Please save me from my own crazy!!"  My husband looked at me and said, "Baby, you are in a really bad place right now. We'll get through it."  He calls those dark thoughts my clouds, I call them my demons.  I think my version is more accurate.  I was letting my mind get the best of me.  The ugliness and self-hatred was growing like a huge black blob in one of Stephen King's novels.  Here is the thing about the blob- it has no boundaries, no rules, no lightness...and it doesn't fight fair.  One minute I think I am fighting thoughts of infertility, the next I hate myself for my cellulite.  I get that damn blob cornered, and it starts throwing things at me-memories of an abusive marriage, bad parenting snippets, work mishaps, bad decisions, and anything else ugly. I try desperately to dodge those  feelings and memories, but I can't tell the difference between what is real and therefore should be kept, and what has been conjured by the blob...remember, it doesn't fight fair.  I couldn't seem to outrun it and I didn't have the tools to face it head on. The more I tried to ignore it, the worse I looked and felt.  I was gaining weight, looking exhausted, feeling stressed out, and feeling more and more out of control and alone.  The blob had settled in and was spreading like spilled acid, eating away at everything good and strong in my head and my heart.

I don't do losing well, so with every passing month that we weren't pregnant, the blob grew tenfold.  With every announcement that someone else was pregnant, the blob took the opportunity to feast on my own self-loathing. My inability to manage this sadness scared me and made me angry at my own weakness. I didn't understand, why was I so sad?  Why couldn't I get out of it?  Why couldn't anyone else see it?  On the occasion that I tried to share my feelings, people would help me by saying things like, "just be thankful that you have three beautiful children" and "you are so blessed already" and "maybe it isn't meant to be" and "it was God's way of telling you it wasn't right." They meant so well, and yet with every statement, they were slipping little treats to the blob, who gobbled up every morsel gleefully and then looked around for more to eat.  I felt embarrassed and ashamed of my sadness.  I felt weak and dramatic.  The more I tried to hide it, the worse it got.  I felt pain, shame, and responsibility for the miscarriages. When I tried to reach out, I was given the gift of more shame and anger of being accused of not being thankful for the gifts I have.  The shame piled on at the thought that my hubris got the better of me. I therefore deserved to keep having miscarriages because I kept attempting to defy nature.  Then fear set in.  What if I did get pregnant? If the universe is so clearly telling me that I shouldn't have a fourth, what if I thought I was clever and pulled a fast one on the universe?  Would it get angry and retaliate by having something be wrong with the baby?  Those were my darkest days.

I am still not pregnant. My husband and I have been to specialists and acupuncturists, eaten organic, used fertility monitors, carefully clocked our timing, taken our temperature, and engaged in lots of practice. I have read several books on infertility and every morning I take an impressive regimen of twelve different vitamins, herbs, and even a shot of some weird crap that is strangely sweet and bitter at the same time...and still no baby. As I swallow a shot of false unicorn root, I can't help but think that I am perhaps chasing my own unicorn. 

There has been a process between then and now.  Perhaps as I continue to blog, I will reflect on some of those times.  However, for the purpose of this blog, I will cut to the end of the story...which really isn't an end, but more of a beginning.  I have been working very hard to set my head and my heart straight.  I am chasing the demons away and seeking happiness in a more healthy and authentic way.  Although my ending may not be the "mommy of four" status that started this blog, I think there will be some interesting stories along the way-and a lot more laughter.