The bit of cynicism in me has ignored the typically relief-giving checkpoints in this pregnancy. I think you're supposed to give a sigh of relief when you first hear the heartbeat, pass 12 weeks, perform the anatomy scan, hit the point of viability (24 weeks), pre-term, term, etc.
Until this point, the markers haven't meant much to me. But the last few days, I've really been looking forward to the point of viability. Because now -- in my mind -- if we found a slowly occurring issue, we could take him out! Now that is a hopeful feeling. Oddly enough, we just met some neighbors on a walk tonight who gave birth at 25 weeks to a healthy daughter!
I stopped thinking about updating the blog as much, feeling kind of weird that I'm the girl that's "still talking alot about what happened", but then a friend who recently had her baby after a term loss mentioned she would be posting all of her during-pregnancy thoughts and I got all kinds of pumped.
So I want to provide the same-- insight into thoughts that may or may not make sense but might comfort the next girl regardless.
I've been PRAISING God for this blockade against true panic and anxiety that He's apparently put up around my heart and house. I'm also praising Him for this puppy that makes most days 10x smilier. But there's definitely some subconscious churning happening in my brain, as evidenced in my most recent dream in which my OBGYN diagnosed me with meningitis because he found 6 ticks on my head, and informed me the pregnancy was now over. (???). He responded well in real life when I told him of his first meningitis diagnosis :).
The last couple of months have been characterized by 2 big themes: avoidance and guilt.
A mixture between wanting to run and hide from most pregnancy conversations and feeling guilty that certain soft spots still exist. Mixture between feeling embarrassed by how much I have to say about Kyler and Beckett (hi, baby brother) and guilty about how hard it is to hear about other babies. Wanting to avoid pregnancy at all costs because that's all life has been about for almost 2 years and guilt over not celebrating Beckett, Kyler, and friends' babies well. Avoidance of flippant talk and complaints about pregnancy symptoms or timing because of those arrows that might hit my soft spots, and guilt that I might want someone to avoid talking about the very same things I couldn't wait to talk about last time.
I wish I felt thankful for hopeful naivety.
Early on, our counselor tried to help us understand the Both-And concept. That you can feel sad for your own experience and happy for someone else's. It doesn't actually sound possible when you say it out loud, BUT IT'S SUCH A REAL THING. Last week was the greatest and most vividly felt example of this. Shay and I held our niece for the first time (his sister's baby girl was born) and my heart died in a good way over how stinking adorable she is and how adorable Shay was with her and general relief that all ended well while at the same time remembering all the ways things should have gone differently the last time we were in L&D, wore the gown, felt the striped hat, fixed the swaddle. Cue avoidance of all the sad feelings and guilt over feeling them at all.
A sucky thing that seems to be true is that it takes personally experiencing a both-and feeling, or two totally opposing emotions related to the same event, until you can understand it's possible. And understand that maybe it just needs to be accepted for what it is- a reaction. Of course you can control (with loooots of prayer) where the subsequent thoughts lead, but it's quite difficult to control a reaction.
In keeping with this both-and situation: the 1 year mark is approaching, and I feel like I have to "wrap up" this public mourning of Kyler, or stop mentioning what happened to him when anyone asks if this is my first pregnancy (happens a bit in the hospital now that I'm showing!) because it makes people uncomfortable, or generally stop talking about him and move on. No one's told me that I should feel this way; it's either a vibe I've picked up or one I've created.
I told Shay I felt like Ky's story was coming across as my identity right now. He affirmed that, well, it kind of is. His life flavors this entire pregnancy, how I'm volunteering time outside of work, how I talk about our family. Despite the fact that I know there are many worse things to walk through on earth, losing him still sucks. Every pregnancy symptom felt for 9.5 months without return sucks. And it's probably appropriate at times to talk about him.
So all of this is pretty negative so far. This week I came home venting about how some girl at work told me I made her cry when I told her about Kyler (9 months ago) because it scared her for her own pregnancy. I apologized 45 times and told her I never should've brought that up around her. She gave a PO'ed look and the conversation was over. Later I realized that uh... I don't think that's how that conversation should've gone. I'm mad that her sadness was considered greater than mine. If she cried, didn't she think I did too? I'm mad that I apologized for our story. I'm mad that I'm mad I apologized because I really wouldn't have consciously chosen to scare her. And I'm mad that now I understand why she hasn't spoken to me in these 9 months. And then I cried for 30 minutes and now it's mostly better. Because of such experiences, Shay's decided to point out the incredible people who remind us that it's very acceptable that grief goes on forever and HORMONES INFLUENCE THINGS and we don't always get everyone else's hard stuff.
A lady from church I've spoken to only once has asked me to lunch around the 1 year mark, presumedly so I can just talk. My Dr. just sent me an article on the first year after stillbirth. People at Shay's work who you wouldn't expect to care enough to ask the awkward questions did today. The friends that just remembered Ky on the first of the month. The sweet gifts to help remember Ky (necklaces and ultrasounds, bunny things). Oh and the people who have listened to my crazy talk for months (even this week) and not acted like they know I'm crazy. Pastor that went up to Shay this week at Panera to ask how we're doing. There's ALOT. All this week. People are great, and it's easy to forget to take the meat and toss the bones.... as my mother in law said today, ha!
And a big, fat positive is that Beckett has reached the point of viability :). And he's healthy. And we get to anticipate another baby boy.
Let the ramblings wrap up with this: grief is complex (you don't say?!). And not necessarily just baby grief! While I typically feel that Shay and I have accepted our route to parenthood and how it fits into our narrative before heaven, it's figuring out how to walk alongside people in other phases/seasons of emotion that has been the hardest. Your journey and mine may look totally different, and we might relate to each other totally differently, but dadgummit, no one has to be in the wrong! That's what's so darn complex feeling about all of this. When you (...I) feel hurt, it's easy to think you (...I) was wronged and that it's ok to feel hurt at or by somebody. But is it WRONG for a friend to want to share happy baby news? Nope. absolutely not. Is it WRONG that I think of Kyler and have a "moment"? Nope. Because I do. But no one has done anything wrong. Walking through opposing simultaneous emotions with friends has got to be one of the trickiest things in the world, but it's definitely added layers and depth to most of the friendships in our lives. And I'm sure on all sides of these friendships, we're learning what giving grace means, whether it's deserved or not.
