Sunday, May 12, 2019

mother's day

Seven months ago, I found out I was pregnant. Six months ago, almost to the day, I found out I had a missed miscarriage.
It suddenly dawned on me today that if the pregnancy had endured, I would be celebrating my first Mother's Day and preparing for the arrival of a little one in one month's time.
That's a lot of stuff to be feeling. The pregnancy was not planned and I confess that my husband and I were both very surprised - shocked even - when that pregnancy test quickly flashed positive. The next few weeks were filled with a lot of conversations, tears, and prayers as we wrestled with news that was both jarring and wonderful. We had finally turned the corner emotionally and accepted - even embraced - the fact that we were going to be parents sooner than we would have liked when my gynecologist could not locate a heartbeat at my check-up. The emotional rollercoaster took yet another turn.

I must confess that in many ways, I am relieved I'm not having a baby right now. I hope that doesn't sound terrible - it's just honest. I do find myself wondering what our child would have looked like. When I see a little boy with caramel skin and curly hair and almond-shaped eyes, I wonder if that's how our son (my husband was already solidly convinced it was going to be a boy) would have turned out. I wouldn't pinpoint any of my residual feelings to grief, anger, or bitterness. If anything, it's closer to curiosity.

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