Due Date

So, last Saturday was my due date. 

October 8, 2011

That was to be my baby girl's birthday.

*sigh*

Why does life have to be so cruel sometimes?

This whole last month has been one giant, emotional suckfest for me.

My last two full term pregnancies ended three weeks before their due dates. Almost exactly.

So when ever I would need to look at my date book, which I avoided like the plague, I would see the countdown and now that I was at 1 month left, 3 weeks left etc. When I hit 3 weeks, I broke down. My poor husband didn't know what the heck was going on. I think it freaked him out a little. He really didn't know that I was still having such a hard time. He thought I was over it.

YEAH. RIGHT.

I really released a lot of emotion that day, so when 2 weeks came I was ok. Then 1 week came and I wobbled. Then The due date came up.

I felt like a pregnant woman waiting for those last days of pregnancy to be over. Counting the hours until her due date arrival, and hoping that it would also commence the arrival of her little bundle of babyness.

Except there would be no baby for me.

I wasn't even pregnant.

I sat there in church Sunday, staring at the speakers as intently as I could. Only making eye contact with my own family. Avoiding all glances over at the families with babies. Especially the ones with brand new babies or baby girls.

My baby girl was due the day before. I was a mess.

I smiled when I had to. I answered questions when asked. But I was really struggling.

Part of me felt like I was having split personality disorder. The part that was smiling and talking to everyone, family included, was just the facade. The real me, the mother inside was kicking and screaming at the world. Crying for her lost child. Could no-one see what I was really feeling?

Of course not.

There's this unwritten rule that people seem to go by...

when a woman (couple) loses a child,

friends and family are there consoling them for a while.

maybe for up to about a month they will still ask "How are you doing?"

But then after the four week mark, it's as if it happened so long ago that you're supposed to have moved on, forgotten all about it. They have.

But, if you're here reading this because you yourself have had a miscarriage, YOU know that this is not always the case. Some mothers (couples) do move on to the next month without pause. I'm not one of those. I carry my babies in my heart and my thoughts, ALWAYS. If you are like that, too, then my heart goes out to you. I feel your pain, your sadness, your emptiness, the depression, the anger and the fear.

The fear that it will happen again. The fear that maybe you will never get pregnant again. I feel your heart.

My cycle has just ended. Finally. Now it's on to guessing when I will ovulate.

You may ask why, why would I have to guess? Why not temp, chart, kit, spit?

Well, my Honey decided that we should do it the old fashioned way and just wait for it to happen. I think we need to have a talk about that. I'm 41. To some, you may have just choked on you beverage of choice.  41!! Is she crazy? Yes, go ahead, make all your assumptions and comments. Think what you will. I give myself until my 43rd birthday to have kids. If I'm not pregnant at that time, I will surrender any notions of trying. I will give up. I will quit. I will finish raising the kids I have (which I'm doing as you read this) and try to be content with not having anymore. I pray that between now and then, Heavenly Father will heal my heart, and give me the peace I desire with that decision.

Call me crazy, go ahead!

I've been called worse.

So, I have waited these last 5 months...every month to fall pregnant. Every month we miss the opportune time. Every month I get my period. Every month I get depressed.

You may be asking if I think that being pregnant and having another baby would make my life perfect. If i hinge my ultimate happiness on that. You may ask, why is she complaining when she already has kids. You may think I'm a super cow for even complaining at all. 

Go ahead, call me a cow. I can take it. I'm a big girl.

No. I don't think my ultimate happiness hinges on having a successful pregnancy and results in a baby.

No. LOL My life would NOT be perfect! Who's is?

I'm not trying to complain that I don't have all the kids I ever dreamed of as a little girl (I only ever dreamed of having 3 or 4), that I HAVE to have more! Gimme, gimme.

I only dream of filling the void that was left in my heart each time I lost a baby. I have 4 amazing kids at home and two grown and moved on. I even have 3 granbabies (they live 2000 miles away, so I can't spoil them as I'd like to!) But my heart has been ripped open and has been bleeding ever since the first loss. I want that pain to stop. I want the visions of my babies, in my hand and not my arms, to stop. 

I only ask God for one more chance to hold a baby in my arms. Just one, not three. One would be enough to fill the holes of the three. Even more so if it were a girl. I know that may sound biased to some. I have five boys already. I have dreamed of having another little girl for many years. Mama's want their daughters, Daddy's want their sons. It's just a given. But, that doesn't mean that if I had another boy I wouldn't be ecstatic! I would be! I know how to do the whole boy thing! I got that down! It's just that I have dreamed for so long to have another daughter, and I was having one, and she died. Before I ever got to know her. Before I got to know if she liked dolls or trucks. Pink or green or orange. Ribbons and frilly things, or jeans and sneakers. Horses or baseball. Books or video games.

I never got to hear her voice..or hear her cry.

I never got to hear her call me Mama.

Can you really blame me?

I held this child in my womb, then in my hand,

Now in my heart.