HOWEVER!
Man, everyone tells you parenthood is hard. Nobody could possibly describe how hard it is.
In early June of 2016 I got pregnant. On purpose! Jon and I were thrilled. Excited. Happy. Over the moon. All sorts of things. Had the appointment set up for the first scan a few weeks later. I mean, I was trying to get pregnant so the second a pee stick showed two lines I could have only been about 4 weeks along.
(This is where it feels like I’m going off track, but bear with me. It all comes together in the end.)
A little earlier, my grandfather had been diagnosed with kidney cancer and it wasn’t found until it had already metastasized to his brain and lungs. We had been planning a trip to Indiana to see good friends and this revelation threw our plans in the air for a little bit. My family assured me that it was fine to go, so we did anyway. About 4 hours into the drive I get a call that Grampa had a catastrophic fall. “Still go, it’ll be fine. I just wanted you to know.” Okaaaaayyyyy....
Got to Indiana, had a grand old time. Told our friends our big secret. They are the only two people in the world privy to the information. We called the baby Science. Not that that would be the real baby’s name but it was a good way to name the baby without giving away the real name. “Baby Hawk,” “the baby,” and “it” aren’t our style.
We return home and Grampa took a turn for the worse. He was now in home hospice and not expected to last long. He lasted two weeks and in that time he had almost 150 people visit him. That doesn’t count the people that showed up more than once. We were there every day after work for two weeks. In the middle of those two weeks I started bleeding. I left work crying without explaining anything to anyone and went to our women’s hospital ER. I had blood work. I had an ultrasound. The nurse practitioner told me they couldn’t find a heartbeat but that it was possibly too early to find one and to keep up hope. I laid there crying on the exam bed and she brought me a can of ginger ale and a blanket that was kept in a warmer. Two days later I returned for my second set of blood work. It took four days for my OBGYN to get in touch. He confirmed that I lost the baby as I was sitting in my car crying already because my grandfather had passed earlier that day. That was July 19, 2016. It was probably the worst day of my life. I received a double blow but nobody but my husband knew what was happening. They thought I was just taking the loss of Grampa way harder than when I lost my other grandparents.
I told my friend in Indiana what happened since she knew I was pregnant, but that I couldn’t talk about it. I did end up telling my sister, too, so I could have some familial support and an uncle who gave us some spiritual advice and direction. They knew on the day of my grandfather’s memorial service that I was inwardly grieving my own baby at the same time. We don’t know for certain, but I think it was a boy. His name would have been Atticus.
In my own traditional fashion, I became a zombie. For months. I didn’t laugh. I didn’t really cry. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t really sad either. I was in my own little box keeping all feelings away from me. I couldn’t handle them yet. And then one friend delivered her baby. Another announced she was pregnant and due the same time I would have been. And ANOTHER friend announced she was also pregnant with the same exact due date as mine! I became so angry. I hated these happy people so much even though I knew I couldn’t make the world around me stop having happiness just because I was disconsolate. I learned to pray a lot during this time. I prayed for the people I was so angry at to have happy, healthy children and beautiful families. I think it helped a little.
Slowly feelings came back. Only a little at a time. It was still too much to process all at once. I grieved for my grandfather, but it wasn’t all bitter. He led a full, happy life with a family that loved, him and many friends. Everyone was sad to see him gone. I then got to grieve Atticus. I found out my boss’ daughter in law was also pregnant, due two weeks after I had been. He didn’t tell me because he knew the state I was in. A perk to working with people you have a good relationship with, I guess. She stopped in with my boss’ son and I saw her belly, said congratulations, and ran to shut myself in a closet where I curled up and weeped for 15 minutes. I pulled myself together enough to go back to work.
At this point, my boss, the secretary (his wife,) and my coworker all knew that I had lost a baby and was having a hard time coping with it. A few days later my coworker tells me, “Guess what!” I knew immediately. Her sister in law was pregnant, and I so desperately didn’t want to hear the words. “My brother and his girlfriend are having a baby!!!!” She kept on about the good news and what details she had while I had a smile plastered on my face, trying not to cry, feeling sick to my stomach. For weeks my gut sank the moment I walked into work and she had more to tell me. I started having heart palpitations driving to work. I finally told her I couldn’t handle it. I cried and told her I couldn’t talk about everyone else being happy and having babies while mine was gone before I even knew him. I needed to get away.
With the information I now have, I realize I was about to hit a manic spell. My husband and I, along with his cousin because why the hell not, planned a trip to Iceland. Three weeks out. My sister plans trips a year ahead of time, so she planned her trip to the Grand Canyon in October 2016 for September 2017 at the same time I planned a trip to Iceland in November 2016. I’m normally a planner so I was definitely in some sort of state. But it turned out amazing. We had some hiccups for sure, (our 2-bed AirBnB ended up being one bed and one flip couch. Not a pull-out couch. A flip couch. Sorry Caleb.) We saw waterfalls, calderas, went in hot springs, saw the Atlantic Ocean from a different perspective. We went to Reykjavik and tiny towns with names I can’t spell or pronounce. We ate a ton of burgers and went to a handful of museums (including the famous Phallological Museum. It was great.) I wish we’d gone longer than a week and prepared for sightseeing a little better.
Like I said, though, I was in a manic phase. We came home, and I decided we were getting a dog! Yes! We have two cats and at the time had two chickens but a dog was exactly what we needed! It would totally fix this horrible mental state I was in wishing I had a baby instead of feeling dead inside! Yeah, a dog would totally fix that! I went on a ton of websites seeking the right adoptable dog. We found him. His name was Tramp, though I decided I would change it to Wilson as soon as he was mine. He was a rat terrier jack Russell mix. Everyone said he would be so hyper but when we met him, he was the best. Dog. Ever. Jon was still not convinced that a dog was a good idea yet so he said we would talk about it that night and if we really think it will work we would fill out the paperwork the next day.
We go home, talk about it more, I had to pee mid-conversation. I had one last pregnancy test left over from June and I figured, hey, it’s the last one. Might as well pee on it because LOL I can’t get a dog and then have a baby at the same time, that would suck! My exact words were, “Um. We’re not getting a dog.” That was December 10th. On Christmas Day, I wrote in a journal, “I think you’re a girl.”
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