Cautiously Optimistic
I actually had a good day. I wasn’t feeling overwhelmed at work. I enjoyed the sunshine while I walked around the neighborhood blasting Ed Sheeran for an hour. I grabbed my favorite passion fruit green tea from Dutch Bros. My mother-in-law wrapped up her first round of in-hospital chemotherapy treatment, and she’s already snuggling with her kitten back at home. I know I shouldn’t be so sad.
But damn, I’m sad. I’m mad. I’m frustrated. I’m stuck on the one thing that I really want right now, and I can’t shake this feeling. It feels like no matter how much good is in the world right now, how many moments I have to feel thankful for — I’m just forcing myself to get through the day because maybe tomorrow’s the day that life sucks a little bit less.
It was just 5 weeks and 1 day ago that I was pregnant and terrified (in the best way) for what our life would look like in the coming months. That’s just 36 days but it might as well feel like a different life. Because I’m different. I’m madder. I’m sadder. I’m just not me.
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36 days ago we found out that we miscarried for the second time in 5 months. I wasn’t even sure I’d want to try again after the first miscarriage because I didn’t think I could handle if anything wrong. again. But, after a month of not actively trying, my period came just like it should have and everything shifted. I wanted to have to create someone with a little bit of Travis and a little bit of me, so we tried. I got pregnant again pretty quickly even though quickly still feels like forever when you’re trying to get pregnant. And I told myself that whatever happened — we’d get through it. I’d get through it. I just couldn’t imagine that getting through it would be so damn tough.
We were planning a move back to Texas and looking for a home when I found out that I was pregnant again. And, I kept telling all my friends and family (I didn’t want to keep this a secret because well — I thought I’d need them and I did) that I was being cautiously optimistic. I was nervous because I’m pregnant, and we were hoping to be first time parents. I was petrified because what if this was the thing I did last time that made me miscarry. (I know/hear/read everything that tells me this isn’t true, and yet this is still how I felt) And, I was mad. I was mad because I knew I’d spend the whole pregnancy with so many more fears on top of all the normal fears I imagine everyone else had.
I don’t know how many times I repeated “whatever happens — happens. and you’re going to get through this” into the bathroom mirror while I was pregnant. And because I love to plan everything else out in my life, I thought that if I told myself this enough times, it wouldn’t feel so devastating if something went wrong. For a while, I thought it actually did help me deal with the second miscarriage, and I was hopeful that life just wouldn’t suck as bad as the first time. But it does. Life just sucks right now. It doesn’t suck all the time because there’s still moments that make me feel really happy, but on average — it sucks. And, it’s worse than I was prepared for.
So why am I writing this? Because I can’t really talk about it. I just recite the same story to my friends and family when they ask what happened, but who wants to hear how sad you are everyday. (Shout out to Travis because he always lets me talk and sulk and grieve and feel it all). Even the people that I know would sit and listen if I let them — why would I ruin their day? So, I guess I’ll just write it here, and maybe one day (fingers crossed for someday soon — I’m being cautiously optimistic) I’ll be able to revisit and say I’m on the other side and life isn’t so sucky anymore.
