miracles and mistakes

My belly is growing, again, enough that today I thought about taking a picture and posting it on Flickr.  And then, no.  Just, no.  I remember my happy picture, posted at almost exactly the same point in the pregnancy where I am today, and I remember that despite how happy I looked (how happy I was), that eventually I learned that the truth was that on that very day, there was no longer anything living in my uterus.  I also note, in retrospect, what I didn't think much of at the time, that by that time I wasn't having much, if any, nausea any more.  No more furious acne on my face.  Not nearly as tired as I'd been, but having a lot of headaches.  I thought it was all caused by the end of the first trimester, and that I was just going to have an easier time of it than when I was pregnant with Katie.

Today, this week, I comfort myself with what would otherwise not be comforting things - I retched several times this morning.  My face and neck are breaking out painfully and horribly.  I am exhausted.  (Still, any day I have a headache I wonder if it's a sign of the end, of the days and days of headaches that I had at the end of and after the last pregnancy.) 

Still, I'm not ready to take or post the picture.  Maybe in another week and a day, after our ultrasound.  Maybe then.

I have reminded myself, repeatedly, that some of the feelings I have are ridiculous, but still, sometimes, I have them anyway.  When I found out I was pregnant again, I was hesitant to tell anybody, not because I didn't want them to know, but because I didn't want to get their hopes up "for nothing," again, like last time.  As if I were somehow to blame for what happened.  As if my own grief from the miscarriage paled in light of the way I had dashed other people's hopes.  As if I didn't deserve to tell anybody about it unless I could guarantee that this time, there would actually be a baby at the end of the road, instead of just a lot of blood and sadness.

So I haven't taken the picture, but I will admit that I am pleased to see the growing belly.  I am working from home today, and I have stood, more than once, sideways in front of the mirror in the dining room so that I can admire my profile.  Definite pregnant belly.  I even tried to suck it in, and I couldn't (a clear difference between the pregnant belly and the flabby belly of the past few years).  There it stayed, gently rounded, almost as far out as my breasts, daring me to look at it and think anything but good thoughts about the little creature that's housed inside (which recently, so I'm told, made the transition from embryo to fetus). 

My friend romanlily posted a photo on Flickr with a quote from Einstein that I've been thinking about a lot the past few days.  "There are only two ways to live your life.  One is as though nothing is a miracle.  The other is as though everything is a miracle."  I know which of those ways I'd like to live my life.  And it's true, isn't it, that this whole crazy thing, this making of a human being from scratch - from two tiny cells - really is a miracle?  Although my miscarriage was a personal tragedy to me, well - perhaps the real miracle is that as many babies are made and born in as perfect condition as they are.  All the fingers and toes.  Beating heats and eyelashes.  Skin that feels, eyes that open and see, vocal cords that make noise, mouths that suck and throats that drink.  Brains that work.

There is no guarantee, of course, that I can give you, or give myself, that this pregnancy will result in a real live baby with all working parts.  But I'm going to believe in that miracle, as much as I can. 

Comments

[JennB]

I've read your blog for a long time (although I can't remember if I've ever commented), and wanted to wish you congratulations on your new news... and condolences for your losses earlier this fall. I'm glad for the cautious optimism... it's the best way to be.
And, we're due a couple of days apart - I'm expecting our 2nd on 5/26.
So, a cautiously optimistic congratulations to the 4 of you... I look forward to more updates when you're ready to share them. I'm glad to know someone else out there who's due in late-May, as well.

[Jess]

None of your feelings sounds ridiculous to me. Honest, and understandable, and relatable. And I'm glad you're still able to believe in that miracle.

[Anne L.]

Jess!!! I'm so happy for you!

[Anelie]

So happy for you. Truly. I'm going to believe right along with you.

[karen]

Thinking good thoughts for you all the time!

[Laura]

I'm so happy for you, Jess! Sending all kinds of positive mojo your way. And I'm so sorry for your loss. Keeping Stephanie alive in your memories is not the same as having her with you, but I hope it brings you some comfort.

[Joanne]

When I was pregnant the first time, I remember I went to my baby shower and I could feel all the love in the room for that baby! I could feel it in my belly and in my head and my heart. Now I'm pregnant for the third time and hoping to have my second baby in January and I know just what you mean about being so, so nervous and scared to just ... be happy and to trust that it will all work out. But I can still feel the love for this baby and I hope you know that I am sending the love to your baby and your family and hoping that it all goes swimmingly.

[Chicago Chick]

For some strange reason I decided to check out your blog to see how you were doing. The last time I stopped by it was May/June of this year and you were going through a rough time. I am so happy for you and I sending good vibes your way.

[TB]

I believe in it for you and for myself. Life is indeed miraculous. I've been thinking about this very thing myself lately.

[Tracy]

I'm so so happy for you, yet so sorry for your loss. Love & comfort to you and your family.

[Colleen]

I just wanted to check in and say that I hope that everything went well at your ultrasound.

[Nikki]

Hope everything's going well over there!

[linda]

Everything hunky-dorey with you? Are you feeling okay?

[fishtail]

I too was wondering how you are doing...