I wrote this a few days ago, just for myself, trying to figure out why I wanted to cry all evening. I don't know if other women feel this way, in the midst of things. I've never talked with anyone else about it. Maybe it's common, but one more of those things we don't share with each other.
I didn’t think I’d feel this way. It’s like I’m losing a baby. As if I really have been pregnant these past several days and now I no longer am. I never considered that losing a dream can seem just as traumatic as losing a child—even when it’s only a temporary loss.
We’ve been actively trying to conceive for almost five months now. I know that’s not really very long in the scheme of things. But it never occurred to me that it would take any time at all. It didn’t the first time. Long before I figured I was ready for a baby, God had already blessed us with our daughter growing inside me.
It took a while to get back to thinking about another one. Many months passed before I was ready and willing to try. Raising one child has been so overwhelming at times, I haven’t known how to even imagine having another.
Then we started trying. After my first full cycle, it became clear I wasn’t ovulating. Pretty hard to get pregnant when half the parts are missing. I had to work my way through that. Feeling like I wasn’t a “real” woman. I wasn’t good enough to have another baby. I was being punished for all the years I’d joked about parents who only wanted one child and how everybody needed a sister or brother.
I started to feel better about it. Relieved that the pressure was off. I had more time to get ready. Until last month. I spent a week wondering if I had ovulated. My temps were up. I might have. Then, another round of anovulatory bleeding.
This month, I was ever so much more careful to make sure there weren’t other factors inhibiting my correct analysis of my body’s signals. It was still a bit confusing. But I was pretty sure I’d ovulated last week. So, again I sat. And stewed. And wondered what God was thinking sending an ovulation in the midst of the holidays. I’d been getting used to the idea of not getting pregnant until after the first of the year. Yet, I figured it was pretty certain I’d have a confirmed pregnancy before Christmas.
Until today. Today, it’s pretty clear I’m not pregnant. Again.
How can I miss a child who was never even conceived?