19 weeks, 16 days post rupture.
You know what I'm really sick of? Pity. Depressing news. Sad events. My life not going the way I planned.
Two years ago, on April 22nd 2009, Brian and I and another couple (our two best friends) got on a plane for our dream vacation to Europe. We went to Amsterdam, Paris, Florence and Rome. We were gone for over two weeks. We saw amazing things, had a great adventure and returned home full of hope for our futures. You see both Brian and I, and this other couple were using our Europe vacation as sort of the 'last hurrah' before we both started families. Our friends, as it turns out, got pregnant on their first try. She had a healthy pregnancy, a midwife delivery and a beautiful baby girl in February 2010, almost 9 months to the day that we got home from Europe. That baby girl is 14 months old now.
It took Brian and I a little longer, and we were definitely starting to stress about it, but in early December 2009 we finally did it. We were pregnant! Our baby was due August 15th 2010. My friend's baby would be 6 months old at the time, but hey, our kids would be in the same grade and could play together as they got older. But my pregnancy wasn't a healthy one. I bled. A lot. I was on bed rest for months. Eventually it was discovered I had no fluid. The placenta was abnormal. Infection set in and I delivered our Aidan on April 21st 2010.
A year to the day that we left for Europe was the last time I held Aidan in my arms.
And things moved on. My friend's baby got older. My cousin's 2nd wife had his 4th child. Matt Damon's wife had his 3rd baby girl. The Duggar's brought home their 18th (19th? I've lost track) child, who although premature, lived.
And then I was pregnant again. New hope. New life. Fear, but also excitement that maybe, just maybe this time it would end happily. I would be healthy. I would carry this baby until he or she could carry on without me. I would make a safe home for 9 months. I wouldn't fail. There might be scares, or minor upsets, but come on, it couldn't be like last time. That was a disaster that couldn't possibly repeat itself. Like lightening hitting you twice, when now you stayed indoors at the first sign of rain.
But here we are again. On bed rest, minimal fluid. Wonky placenta. Guarded outcome.
And almost two years from the day that I jetted off to Europe, with a whole world of possibilities at my feet, I can not believe we've ended up here. How did we get here? Things weren't suppose to be this way. Good, happy things were supposed to happen. I'm not saying there weren't suppose to be challenges, or hard times...but not this, no never this.
Brian and I are tired of being the couple people feel sorry for. The couple who has it rough. The couple whose dreams are shattered and hopes dashed. It's almost unbearable to get e-mails and calls from friends and family laced with pity and sadness. Poor Emily and Brian. I just can't imagine what they're going through. They are so strong. We're praying/keeping our fingers crossed/thinking of you/hoping good things come your way etc.
How much longer can we keep hitting the opposite of the jackpot? Was the information that we got on Thursday, that the baby is getting good blood flow and has at least a little bit of fluid an indicator of hope and good things to come? Could, after two years, we finally be on the winning team? Will Acorn beat the odds, and come home a healthy, normal baby to sleep in the bed room I so desperately want to ready for him? Or will the blood and fluid just be another red herring? Something we will look back on wistfully and think "if only it could have stayed that way?"
After two years, I'm afraid to hope at all.
Addendum: I've got 5 comments on this post so far, and I just wanted to make it clear, that I'm not in anyway saying that I don't appreciate that people are sorry for our past and current situation. Or that I don't want people to call/write/e-mail with their hopeful thoughts for us. It's that I don't want to NEED pity or hopeful wishes. I just want things to go RIGHT for a change. If people don't need to think about me or my family at all because we're doing just great, that would suit me just fine. Hey even a little bit of jealousy at our good fortune never hurts! Just kidding...well, actually no, not really. And I promise, I'll really really appreciate just the miracle of normalcy.
Are you tired of the pity party surrounding your life? What would make it better? How do you continue to feel good about yourself in the wake of so much loss?