Friday, June 12, 2015


I'm not sure when it happened exactly.  But at some point in the last six months I feel like things that formerly seemed fantastic and impossible have now become ordinary.  My pregnancy problems have shifted from infertility fears (What if this isn't real?  What if I lose it?  Why don't other mothers experience the same level of anxiety that I do?) to normal-people annoyances (It's totally a bummer to not get to eat rare steak anymore, am I right?)  The squirming in my lower abdomen is so frequent now that I often don't even acknowledge it most of the time.  And when I think back to the days when I couldn't quite make it back to the apartment before I started crying, it seems like another lifetime entirely.

In one way, this makes me sad.  I kinda wish that the shadow of infertility would always hang over me so that I would be forced to appreciate every second of growing life as precious.  And on top of that, I sometimes feel survivor's guilt and I can't stop thinking about the people who would do anything to be in my position.  I still feel like I've somehow betrayed them.

But in another way, it's good.  It's nice.  Comments that people make in casual conversation don't hurt me anymore.  My mind is freed up to think about all kinds of things.  I get to remember what I first loved about school and friends and family and my life in general.  The whole world is no longer out to get me.  And I haven't seen that wench Aunt Flo in months, but I know that when I do her visit won't be accompanied by the feeling of my heart getting ripped out of my chest.

I don't know if me saying this will make any of you angry or bitter or jealous.  I know how awful it is sometimes to hear about someone else's joy (ESPECIALLY pregnancy joy).  But I decided to write it anyway in case it gives you hope instead.  Because the things that have power over you now may not have power forever.  In fact, one day, you may feel that they have no power at all.  Pregnancy doesn't have to be haunted.  Not for us.  We've dealt with all kinds of things that others will never have to and we've fought hard just to stay afloat.  But one day all that struggle might just end, and the armor and weapons we built and hefted around with us will drift peacefully away like falling leaves as our battle days become mere memory.  Like me, you may find that the transition is so quiet and so gentle that you don't even notice it happening.  And then you will have finally gotten one beautiful thing that you didn't have to fight for.

For those who are wondering, I'm having a baby girl. :)
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