As many of you know, Buck and I tried and tried and TRIED to get pregnant for several years before we decided that adoption was the route for us to grow our family. Shortly after becoming parents, that desire to become pregnant disappeared. After knowing I could be a mom without giving birth was an amazing realization, and I was so excited to be able to continue to grow our family through adoption.
So...Imagine the surprise when that positive showed up on our home pregnancy test. Imagine the surprise when I was not happy about it. I'm not sure which of those two surprised me more.
In May, we had decided to let Henry's old case worker know that we would be ready for a baby around the beginning of the year, so to keep us in mind if any littles came through that needed to be adopted. A month later we found out we were expecting.
Carly's feels:
Fear.
Guilt.
Anger.
Guilt.
Anger.
Excited.
Anger.
Fear. I was terrified to be excited, especially after having experienced an early miscarriage a few years ago. I didn't want to get my hopes up that I'd carry to term.
Guilt. I felt like the child that could have ended up in our home was just robbed, that we'd taken something away from them. I also felt like I had betrayed Henry, that somehow my pregnancy, or any excitement about my pregnancy, would take away from his story to becoming a member of our family.
Anger. So much anger. I was so thrilled to continue to grow our family by adoption, I was fine with not getting to experience pregnancy, I didn't want to become pregnant anymore. So now, after years of trying and heartbreak and frustration and confusion and healing, NOW I get pregnant?! After the fear and guilt left, then I was just straight up mad. Well...the fear and guilt could have also been manifesting themselves through anger, but this isn't a counseling session (well...it kind of is...this is pretty therapeutic for me...).
Real quick, before I get a "you just needed to relax and not think about it" remark, just stop. That's not what it was, trust me. We knew what our problem was, we both saw doctors, we knew that our odds of natural conception were extremely low and that we'd likely need medical intervention to help. So please don't say something like this to me, or to anyone who gets pregnant after infertility/adoption.
Anyways.
I felt so terrible when people would say, "WOW WHAT A MIRACLE! You must be SO excited!!" And I'd be like "Haha...yeah..." and then inside my head would be *guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt why aren't you excited yet guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt*
I did eventually warm up. When he started kicking I was like "Ooh! A baby!" Talking to Henry about becoming a big brother and watching him rock and sing to his baby doll got me excited. Thinking about him being an older brother was really fun. Watching my belly grow and getting maternity clothes was pretty cool. And Buck, oh my goodness, Buck. His pure joy and huge smiles and rubbing my belly really helped me to let some of those uncomfortable feelings go. But even with all of that, I haven't had much of an emotional attachment to this pregnancy. When I saw him on the ultrasound the first time (and second and third and fourth...), I didn't feel a thing. When we did the anatomy scan, I felt nothing. When I imagine holding him for the first time, I really don't feel much.
And now, with this being a high risk pregnancy that's hospitalized me a few times, each time reducing my level of activity, I'm not like, "momming" the way I was able to before. I've done my best to improvise, but not being able to pick up your son, go play on the beach, go on walks, do all the things that you always do, for several weeks, is really challenging.
And now, having been in the hospital for only a week and a half, several hours from home, with the possibility of leaving as long as there are no more bleeds but still staying in Seattle for two months, I'm devastated. I want to go home. I want to be home. Watching Buck be a single dad is freaking hard. Facetiming Henry while he tries to hug me through the phone is adorable, but, freaking hard. Especially because I don't know what he's feeling, if he notices or cares or is impacted by this. Does he know why I'm gone? Does he know that I love him? Is he confused? Is he mad? It's hard to not have those questions, especially when the more recent interactions with him have been him just blankly staring at me and not saying hi or waving or being super giggly and happy like he usually is.
To be safe, to make sure this unborn child has a place to be born that can take the best care of him, I need to stay. And it's hard because I love Henry, I love Buck, and I feel very little feelings toward this baby, and I know that's okay. I know I'm not the only one who has experienced this, and I've learned that stuffing those feelings down and faking it while feeling SO MUCH SHAME isn't going to do any good, so I'm embracing these feelings. But it's hard. It's really hard. I'm reeaaaallly banking on the hope that after this little one is born, everything will be okay.
Everyone says it's going to be worth it. And I'm sure it will be, eventually. A few months in the grand scheme of things is nothing, and I'm sure in a year I'll be like, "SEND ME BACK TO THE HOSPITAL DAYS OF LOTS OF KNITTING AND NETFLIX AND ROOM SERVICE AND NAPS." But for right now, in this short time of my life, it super sucks. I'm doing my best at having faith in my nurses and doctors and trusting God and the fact that I zero control. A lot of the time I'm occupied and when I focus on taking it just one day at a time, it's okay. But for right now, in this moment, I'm sad and scared and mad. And that's okay.
