That is until a week later, I realized my period was late. I bought a pregnancy test on my lunch break and then next thing I know, a positive symbol shows up in the window. OMG... I'm Pregnant... After a year of trying to get pregnant, I was in bliss, and that stupid package I ordered for my birthday was just going to become a cute pile of color coded tupperwares on my counter top that would remind me what I "should" be eating. Pregnancy for me last time was 14 weeks of nausea followed by 23 weeks of binge eating until I met our daughter. 58 pounds later, I was a different woman in many ways. And while I didn't want to repeat my pregnancy with baby K, I was just so happy that I almost unsubscribed myself to the challenge. I was going to "do it" but I was just going to skate through it and see if I could just maintain weight and eat better. I felt like after over a year of trying and a miscarriage, I deserved a little bit of celebration in between the bouts of nausea.
Then on our way to fourth of July plans, I realized something was wrong. I called the doctor to explain some unforeseen bleeding. She sent me to the ER. Besides my endometriosis, I have a negative blood type and my husband's is positive, so we combined have a conditioned called RH Factor. After the first pregnancy, every pregnancy after could be subjected to these antibodies that see the fetus as a bad thing, try to attack it, starve it out, etc. You can get an injection that lasts for 12 weeks that protect the baby using synthetic antibodies (or something like that). Three hours at the ER, I walked home with lab work stating that my HCG levels plummeted back down to 6. What was a positive blue line four days prior, was almost baseline and no longer a viable pregnancy. Another miscarriage right after my 30th birthday. Follow up? I can barely find the energy to go back into the doctor's office to talk about my incompetent uterus and other lady parts. It all happened so fast, here one day and literally gone the next. Now I am 1 for 2 and the reality that my body is broken is once again in the forethought of my mind.
Thing was, this pregnancy was almost a complete shock. Sure, I knew it was possible, but according to the doctor not all that likely. How do you hold a treasure in your hand for 4 days, just to have it slip away? How do you continue to have a positive outlook after 13 months of failed attempts, no's, and "I'm so sorry for your loss"? Everyone says, "I know you will have another baby, it's just not your time this time", to which I say, "yeah... thanks" which really means, "screw you, unless you're God or your have some gift of prophesy, please do not assume I will have another baby. My heart hurts, my body really hurts, and my peace and hope and frame of my mind is not one where I come out a winner". Bad luck? Bad ju ju? Bad karma from something I did in third grade? or just Bad genes? Who knows... But this has been my reality for so long now that I waiver between a pit of despair and trying to try again.
Stupid but cute containers sitting on my counter top yesterday, and I realize that maybe, just maybe, I won't give up on myself and our future this time. I won't spend 6 months grieving with Panera Bread and Little Caesar's. So last night, I look at those stupid containers. I looked at my body, my broken and humbled body, and I made myself a little promise: This time, we aren't giving up... This time, we aren't allowing a no to let us fall apart. This time, we are going to pull ourselves out of bed and find joy, peace, and happiness... hope... faith.. and love in a decision not to just sit back and feel sorry for ourselves... It's like I want to lay in bed and sob myself to sleep, but I know the hurt will still be there anyway...
So I woke up, weighed myself, took a before picture of my broken body, and measured every limb and curve from head to toe. (All cute requirements to this program however I haven't mustered up the courage to post those broken pictures on the group site). Maybe some day I will post them on facebook so people can tell me how good I look after I lose all my weight... (and secretly think, "oh woah, she's really came a long way....."). It was hard to look at that picture. I am smiling in it, but it is so fake, so pressured, so fragile. Because I woke up broken. I woke up still processing mentally and physically that I've lost another chance at being a momma. But I made a choice today, I opened up the app for the 21 Day Fix, and I logged in my weight, and I said to myself that this time, I won't let this loss consume me. God will provide all the strength I need to not only survive, but to thrive.
I just finished a 30 minute workout DVD. At first, I was going to give myself a pass but decided to try it out. Not harder than anything I have done in recent history, but symbolic that I had a great excuse to not try. I had a great excuse to go back to bed during nap time, but I know that isn't my goal. I wrote down 10 goals for myself. One of them was "to stop making excuses". While having a miscarriage 24 hours ago is a great excuse to just lay in bed and rest and eat pizza today, I also have a better excuse to stick to my plan and do this 21 day fix; I deserve to heal. I deserve better. I will have better.
And I guess, just admitting that and pushing through for 1 day of 21 feels pretty amazing. My body will heal. My heart will heal, too. I come closer and closer to accepting that God has a plan for our family, and I am sad, upset, discouraged, enraged that now wasn't our time, but I have also realized that I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for things to happen. I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for a baby. (I say that with a grain a salt because as I move my heart forward, a little piece stays behind with my dreams... a little piece stays behind with this loss, the last loss and each month in between.) It's like the death of a loved one, you're left to carry on without them, and you have to decide if you are going to secretly let yourself die, too, or if you are going to live...
Two weeks ago, I packed up the baby room and put away blankets, bottles and odds and ends. And I was in the mental space to move forward. Then I almost got ready to pull it all back out again. I realize just how much of my life and my heart is centered around something that I am not even sure is God's plan. Maybe I am not made to be a mom again. Maybe I have other things to do before then. Maybe I am meant to care for myself first. Maybe I am meant to do something else in this world. I don't have the clarity or discernment to know that right now, but I made a choice today. To keep walking when I wanted to quit. To push harder, when I wanted to give up. To think about my long-term goals and dreams instead of this temporary pain. I made a choice to LIVE... to really live and not just survive anymore wishing for something that I cannot have.
In 21 days, I am still going to mourn losing another pregnancy. In 21 days, I still won't be my goal weight. In 21 days, I will still very much desire to be a mommy again for the second time. In 21 days, I will be able to say that I didn't let sadness take my drive. In 21 days, I will say I trusted God to honor our dreams. In 21 days, I will have finished this "fix" and will just keep living. For me its the change in my heart to stop feeling sorry for myself and to try to Fix what I can... my body, my eating, my activity level, and my routine. It's the choice to say that I will let this dream and this baby die, but I won't die with it. Because the reality is that I could lose a half a dozen more pregnancies, but I will only lose myself if I chose to allow it to happen. Last year, I lost myself for a good long while. I went through the motions, but I ate my feelings away and I laid around like a tired slug waiting for things to happen.
The creator of this program said she created this to help people create a new habit. 3 weeks people tend to learn new habits. So it's a big challenge to her and myself, but maybe 21 days will teach me how to not give up on me when life seems to have handed me lemons (rotten ones at that). It's bittersweet, for my broken body to feel energy and strength from a workout but for my heart to still feel so broken today. This is my before, day 1, and I guess I will just have to see what it feels like 21 days later....
