On Friday, I finally got what I had waited 68 days for: the start of my period.
It’s bittersweet, really. On the one hand, I was practically doing flips, I was so excited. FINALLY, my body was on its way to being normal again. But I also found it kind of sad, realizing that the last time I had a period (I don’t count the crazy post-miscarriage bleeding), was right before I was pregnant. I’m back to the beginning, making the time I was actually pregnant feel like a distant dream that I woke up from too soon.
Have you ever woken up from a good dream and tried so hard to fall asleep again so you could get back to it? That’s how I feel about being pregnant. And just like it’s hard to just fall asleep and go back to a dream, so far I haven’t been able to get back either. Waiting for that first period, that new cycle, has essentially been keeping me “awake.”
But now it’s here, which means we can start trying again. I’m equally excited and terrified. Excited to get back to my dream, but terrified because I know it just won’t be the same. I feel robbed of that naive excitement I had the last time we found out we were expecting. Sure, I knew things can go wrong in the first trimester, which is why we hadn’t shared our good news yet. But what I wasn’t prepared for was just how much losing our baby would hurt. I know the odds are in our favor that this next pregnancy will be healthy, but that small chance that something could go wrong again is killing me. Can I physically and emotionally handle losing another baby? I honestly don’t know. What I do know, is that the only way to get our baby is to try again.
I came across this poem a while back, and thinking about it gives me the strength to try again.
A Different Child
A different child, people notice
There’s a special glow around you.
You grow surrounded by love
Never doubting you are wanted;
Only look at the pride and joy
In your mother and father’s eyes.
And if sometimes between the smiles
There’s a trace of tears,
One day you’ll understand.
You’ll understand there was once another child.
A different child.
Who was in their hopes and dreams.
That child will never outgrow the baby clothes.
That child will never keep them up at night.
In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all…
Except sometimes, in a silent moment,
When mother and father miss so much
That different child.
May hope and love wrap you warmly
And may you learn the lesson forever:
How infinitely precious,
How infinitely fragile is this life on earth.
One day, as a young man or woman
You may see another mother’s tears
Another father’s silent grief
Then you, and you alone will understand
And offer the greatest comfort.
When all hope seems lost
you will tell them with great compassion:
“I know how you feel.
I’m only here because my parents tried again.”