His first birthday last year was a huge bash - tons of people, many of whom are mutual friends, both my age and my parent's age. Many of my de facto "family" and oldest and dearest friends. My husband had to work so I was on my own. Now, he has to work lots of nights and weekends, so over the years, I have gotten very used to going to events by myself, and except for wishing that he didn't have to miss so many dinners/parties/etc, I usually have no problem going alone.
But since we lost the baby, there are certain kinds of events that I really don't like going to alone. Namely kid birthdays and baby showers. Having him there would mean that I wouldn't be the only one at the party that had "lost a baby." That SOMEONE there would know how shitty that event was for me and I would know how shitty it was for them. Strength in numbers.
So back to one year ago. I was not in a good place. I had a miscarriage in June - which turned out to be a long drawn out process physically in addition to the emotional shit of losing another pregnancy. My body was finally feeling better and I was rejoining the world by mid-July but I was definitely NOT myself. Okay, but not really okay ya know? Two years of trying, two losses and a me I did not exactly recognize anymore.
And I vividly remember sitting on my friend's couch.....my best friend on one side of me, her three month old in her arms.....my sister-in-law on the other side of me, her almost one year old walking around holding on to us and the couch to keep his balance....various other kids running around.....one of the older generation commenting on how wonderful it was to have all these beautiful babies around.
And I sat there feeling so alone. Like if you took a picture of that happy and beautiful scene, I wouldn't even be in it. Or I would be in black in white and everything else would be in color.
Part of it was I was feeling very left behind. Many of my friends were there with their children - chasing after them, changing diapers, trying to get them to sleep - doing all the things I wanted to do so badly. Their lives were moving forward all around me and mine wasn't.
And part of it was that MY baby was supposed to be turning one that month. I looked at my friends' son and I looked at my nephew and thought, my baby should be here too. I don't have those moments very often. But that day it hit me like a load of bricks. It really sucked.
Today, I felt okay. So many people commented on how I'm starting to show and asked me how I was feeling and told me they were thinking of me and glad to hear that things were going well. Its so nice to see people be happy for us and to know that they are praying for us.
And it really struck me that I'm in a very different place now. Partly because time has past and my wounds are healing. But mostly because I'm pregnant. And that's wonderful. It makes sense to me that getting pregnant and making it through the first trimester would make me feel better. But its also scares me a little. No. Scare is too strong a word. I don't know how to describe it. But here's the thing: My happiness is fragile. I'm happy because I am pregnant. Today's party was not awful because I am pregnant - I have moved a few steps forward and it feels good. But it also feels fragile. And that's just the way it is.
I'm not exactly sure where I'm headed with this, or how to put into words what I think I have learned and learned to accept. Maybe I should just leave it at......I feel at peace today.