I should be in labor already.

My due date was August 27th 2016. The day I'm having a gender reveal for our new baby. As excited as I am, I read that when you approach your original due date, there are so many mixed emotions. Cue ALL those emotions as I watch friends around me having their showers, packing their hospital bags, and bringing home bundles of joy from the hospital. The girls I sent messages to back in January and said, "We get to be #bellybuddies!"

My first pregnancy didn't last, but nobody ever talks about that. So you're surprised. Did you know about one in five pregnancies ends in miscarriage? While women just silently carry on with their heads up and "Just try again!" Let me tell you what it's really like. 

I write this because I know there are women out there, who just like I did, are going to type "miscarriage" into Pinterest or Google and pray that some hope comes out of it. They will browse blogs of those who've been through it and went on to have healthy rainbow babies. They will worry and wonder as they research why and how this happened to them.

You are not alone.

I have known for a long time that the fullness that my life and this blog was missing was a baby. Alex and I decided many years ago that there was lots we wanted to do before becoming parents. Finish his time in the military. Get my grad degree. Get healthy. Line up good jobs. Travel. Drink good beers. Save money. Buy a house. We have so many things that others only dream of. When we want something bad enough, we get it. So why couldn't we become parents? We love God. We work hard. We pay our damn taxes. 

 12/21/2015- A faint second pink line. I dropped to the floor in the bathroom and prayed. I also gave thanks I quit my teaching job that afternoon because it was not conducive to having babies. 

12/22/2015-The word "pregnant" appears on a Clear Blue test in the gym locker room. I drank tea at the bar with friends. I got a blood test later to confirm. 

12/23/2015

"Hi is this Christine? Congratulations, you're pregnant! Happy Birthday! Don't eat deli meat!"

I'll never, ever forget that phone call. I ordered cranberry juice in a wine glass and surprised my best friend at lunch. I searched high and low and finally found camo booties for Alex to unwrap. 

12/24/2015

My husband cried happy tears as he unwrapped those booties as an early Christmas present. I will never, ever forget his sweet reaction. I told my family that night while we said Grace. I'll never forget that either. The excitement. The love. The priceless Christmas gift. 

Time goes on. Life is good. No symptoms in January. I feel great, wondering why my doctor won't bring me in for an ultrasound for weeks and weeks. "You're low risk." 

1/27/2015

I leave the emergency room with paperwork that says "threatened miscarriage" at 3:00 in the morning.  The doctor DRAWS the empty black hole in my body on the bed sheet to show me. I didn't need her to do that. I saw it on the ultrasound and I'll never, EVER forget that image. 

Terrified and hopeful, I wait until 1/30 to double check and the doctor lets me know it's okay to drink tequila that night. 

I've been married for 6 years. I have my shit together. We are good people. I am healthy. Why not us? Why do all these parents get to have kids by accident, but not us? Why do drug addicts and criminals get to procreate? Why? Why? Why? My faith was beyond challenged. I've never cried so much in my entire life. 

The doctor said, "It's going to take a while. You experienced a serious trauma."

TRAUMA.  That word shouldn't be associated with motherhood. But it is the perfect word to describe the feeling and what your body goes through. And I don't think anyone can understand that unless they've been through it. When someone in your family dies, it's traumatic. You take time off work. When there's an accident, it's a trauma. But when your baby can't grow anymore or your body doesn't cooperate, we are just expected not to talk about it? To show up to work and act normal? To just keep hush hush because it happened in the first trimester, so it "doesn't really count"? WHAT!? ...."It wasn't the right time."

I had surgery on February 12th. What a nice start to Valentine's weekend. I physically felt fine two days later. But the absolute roller coaster of emotions over those few months consumed me. Everywhere I looked, a baby bump. A Facebook announcement with the same due date as I would've had. I unfollowed so many friends because I couldn't see their happy posts anymore.

Another person asking, "When are you guys having kids? That house has enough room for a baby. You've been married for so long!"

Here's what many others and I would like to respond:

"Are you asking about my sex life?"

"Gee, I'm glad you asked. I'm actually not sure if I'll ever even be able to have children."

"Did you know 1 in 5 pregnancies ends in miscarriage?"

"Funny you should ask, ass wipe, I actually just went through a traumatic loss."

*Lesson* PLEASE stop asking people when they are going to have kids. You have no idea what they're going through. In the past, my response was due to other goals, we didn't WANT kids yet. But when you ask me after a miscarriage, I want to throat punch you.

When I went for a check up with my doctor, she asked if I wanted an antidepressant.

She said, "Usually the next pregnancy will take away these sad feelings." I was offended. As if my feelings and emotions weren't natural. As if this pregnancy didn't matter and the next one would take its place. I thought, "Am I depressed? I get my ass out of bed every morning, exercise, and look presentable. I make time for friends. I'm trying my best here and she suggests drugs?"

I found relief in hugging my husband, hanging out with friends, margaritas, running, crying while running, Zumba, pedicures, adopting a crazy puppy, and distracting stupid TV shows. But quiet moments alone, and every baby bump you see, never stop hurting. You never stop thinking about it.

The more I talked about it, the more common I learned that miscarriage is. So many amazing women in my life, many with children, had miscarriages as well. Thank you for sharing your stories with me.  

This is going to sound strange, but I'm thankful it happened to me. It was humbling and eye opening. Horrific and incredibly isolating. But I am not untouchable. I have so much sympathy for other women now. I respect that babies truly are MIRACLES. They don't just happen because we want them to. I learned about my faith in God and my relationship with my husband. 

Alex, you are a SAINT for dealing with me and I don't know how you stayed so strong while I crumbled. This is MARRIAGE. This is sickness and health, good times and bad, better or for absolute worst. I never thought this would happen to us. But I have to believe that God had other plans.

Ladies, we don't have to handle it alone. This is real life. It took me so long to post this because I was scared, alone, embarrassed. Why should I be embarrassed? My doctor said it literally could've happened to anyone. I was and still am low risk. Shit happens.

There are rainbows after storms. Who knows when or how or why they'll arrive. But there is sunshine after the storm. The day I found out I was pregnant again was the day Florida Georgia Line's "HOLY" came out. Listen to it. The day before my ultrasound when I saw our rainbow's heartbeat at the doctor's, I saw a rainbow driving through Franconia Notch. This baby is new, and special, and so very, very appreciated and loved already. But I will never forget the first pregnancy that made me a mom. Those memories still make me both cry and smile. 

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. -1 Peter 5:7

Thank you for reading this. Thank you to anyone who gave me a hug this year or made me laugh.  Or made me a stiff drink. I love you.