Thank you notes

I went to a bridal shower last week, a work friend who is getting married in May. It was a nice little gathering. Good food, good people. I managed to blank myself out when they talked about babies. It was only uncomfortable for a few minutes and the whole thing passed without incident.

And then today, the thank you note for my gift came. The bride-to-be hoped that the next shower for the workplace would be for me.

It was supposed to be. There's some chance that it may yet, of course, if nobody else decides to have kids or get married soon. But that simple sentence, from someone who knows nothing about what happened, stung horribly.

Turner Syndrome

I just got the news from the doctor. Our daughter died from Turner Syndrome, which I guess is a missing chromosome that only occurs in girls. I’m feeling rather detached at the moment since, for some reason, I was convinced it was a boy. We’d even come up with a name for him. Our doctor said that this was the best possible news we could get from the workup - there are no hormonal problems, and nothing to suggest that I’m any more likely to have another miscarriage than anyone else. But I’m still feeling terrified as we start TTC again.

I know most people don’t have a chance to get bloodwork done after a first miscarriage, but my doctor (whose wife had multiple m/c) made sure we got that option after the D&C. Now I know what happened, which I thought would be a comfort, but I’m not sure it is. Right now I just feel confused, and sad.

Easter weekend

I didn't realize how hard it would be to be at home. My parents are walking on eggshells about what they say, and my husband isn't here to hold my hand when I'm sad. He's taking care of our herd of animals and spending Easter with his own family. It's the first holiday we've been apart since we were engaged. That's part of what makes it difficult, of course.

Equally uncomfortable has been the people we've run into. I started crying in the grocery store when one of my mother's friends from work - one who has helped her get through the loss of what was her first grandchild, after all - came over and said how sorry she was. It hurt, and it made me angry, in a stupid way. How dare she bring something so painful, so private, into the open in a grocery store? I know she only meant to express her sympathy, but I thought here I might be free of it, at least for a bit. And tomorrow will be worse. Tomorrow after church, we spend the afternoon with my aunt and uncle, and my pregnant cousin and her family. I don't want to hear them say how sorry they are. I don't want them telling me that I'll get to meet my baby someday, when God wills it, and that look, my cousin is pregnant and carrying to term after a miscarriage of her own. I don't want them to be understanding. I just don't want to talk about it. I have a whole slew of friends who still live in my home state, and I haven't told more than one that I'm here. I just don't want to see them and explain. I should be 14 weeks pregnant, and I'm not.

Home for Easter

Tonight I hop a plane and head to the frozen north to spend the weekend with my parents for Easter. It is, literally, a guilt trip. My mother felt so guilty that she couldn't be here to hold my hand before the D&C that she immediately bought me tickets to come and visit. It's going to be uncomfortable. I'm going to be visiting my cousin on Easter. She's five months pregnant, and was so, so excited to be pregnant at the same time as me. It's crushing just to think about it, but I think I need this. I think I'm ready to see her, and I know she's devastated for me. Time to cross my fingers and hope for the best.

A welcome vacation

One lovely weekend in the mountains later, I'm feeling a great deal more settled, although the sadness came back as I walked into the baby room to look at my husband's new plants. It made me a little bitter. There's something growing in there, but not my baby.

The weekend was restful, though. My knitting group headed up on a retreat that I planned about a month and a half ago, and everyone seemed very happy with the job I'd done of it. We got to hit up a bunch of wonderful knitting stores, and I got a GORGEOUS skein of lace-weight yarn, and picked a pattern for it, to boot!

Unfortunately, it reminded me that I'd promised my pseudo-cousin some baby things. She's at five months, now. I'm horribly jealous, even though I don't want to be. It's her second child, and she's a wonderful mother. Her son is a joy to be around. The thought of making something for someone else's baby is hard to bear, though. Two of my good friends offered to do the hard work if I supplied the yarn and pattern, and as much as I hate to pass my work on someone else, I might take them up on it.