It’s been 3+ months since our miscarriage. In a way it seems like it happened a year ago; so much has happened since then that I feel disconnected from that dreadful week. I thought I was handling it. Not just handling it, but handling it well. Turns out I was wrong.
Since that week in November- hearing my doctor confirm my worst fears over the phone-giving voice to what I didn’t want to consider I had lost my “want to”. Turns out you can lose something and not even know it’s gone until it rises up and smacks you in the face. For me, it was my desire for another baby; my willingness to try again. I didn’t want to face pain like that again. I didn’t want my body to fail me again. I didn’t want to have to admit how scared I was, how scared I still am. And I certainly didn’t want to revisit the doubts I had been having when I found out I was pregnant; doubts about wanting a second child, doubts about being able to handle it physically and emotionally, and doubts about whether or not I would be a good mother to two or if I was still too selfish.
So I stuffed my desire for a baby down deep into a hole and put a lid on it. I adamantly told myself that I was okay not being pregnant. I wasn’t ready anyway right? Right?
My husband and I would talk about it and I would sound so self assured. I would explain all of the reasons why we should wait. They seemed like such good reasons. Logic and rationale too hard to ignore. School, health, Lily, money, I came up with whatever excuse I could. But none of them made their way past my head into my heart.
The truth is, I’ve been longing for another baby in a way I didn’t know I could. In a way that I didn’t want to admit to myself. I kept flipflopping back and forth between yes and no, so much so that my husband was going crazy trying to keep up with me. In my heart I knew what I wanted, but knowing and making the choice to try again are two very different things. Both times we conceived it was so easy and effortless. There was never any choice to make, just a wonderful surprise to be excited and elated about. Maybe that seems thoughtless to some, but for us both times there was never any pressure or awkwardness, just fun and joy.
There was no feeling of dashed hopes when the test was negative. Like I said, it was unbelievably easy. We liked it that way. If it happened it happened, if not we would just keep trying until it did. I was afraid to lose that carefree fun attitude. I knew that when we decided to try again, out loud, in honest terms, that it would put some sort of pressure on it all. That my fears and feeling would come flooding back and I would have to face the scariness of making such a huge decision in light of such a heartbreaking loss.
In a way I was right, and also very wrong. There is a bit of pressure, and sometimes a little bit of awkwardness, there’s plenty moments when I have my fair share of doubt and fear but for the most part there’s just hope. It seems I have found my “want to” again.
It didn’t come easy. It required a lot of praying and crying and letting myself come to terms with a lot of self doubt. My heart was broken and that requires a lot of work to fix. It means leaning more on God than on myself. On taking a back seat and letting him be in control. It means having grace for myself, my husband, and others who ask tough questions without realizing it. It means being able to forgive.
Having another baby doesn’t mean I will forget the baby we lost. It doesn’t mean I will be replacing our baby with another. Or that I will have less love and less of myself to give Lily and my husband. There are plenty of reasons to wait to make a decision like this, plenty of good ones that make a lot of sense. But I didn’t have any of them. All I had was hurt, fear, and self doubt. Those feelings aren’t a good guide at all. God knows that, He knows we can have more than that. That our lives can be more than that. Sometimes bad things happen to us and God doesn’t stop them but if we let Him, He will show us how to heal and move forward, how to get our “want to” back.