CHAPTER 28
January 27
Group e-mail to women friends:
I have been doing a lot of soul searching and processing about the baby question. I got some powerful insight over the weekend, mostly in favor. I just can’t seem to rest in the “we’re done” place, as hard as I try, and I don’t think it’s my biology talking (as my sister-in-law warned me it would as I approached forty, saying I shouldn’t fall for it). I told a couple of you that I’m in this place where not trying again is starting to seem scarier than trying again, even though on a core level I am utterly petrified of what will come up if we go for it.
Meanwhile, Dicken is now pretty keen to try, so we are contemplating an attempt next cycle (gulp!). I’m scared to even write that. It makes me cringe with fears of going back on my word to people and feeling completely flaky if I lose my nerve again—like backing up from the end of a diving board and climbing down the ladder, the walk of shame. But I have to say, right now it seems that everything is leading me to this, and of course it seems natural that in the process all my fears and reasons not to are screaming at me (including, oh my God, the economy is tanking, this would be a terrible time to bring a child into the world! And Dicken’s back is in bad shape, he won’t even be able to lift the baby, and all my friends are turning into potheads—they’ll flake out on you when you need them! And Dicken will have to go on the rafting trip without me, and he’ll fall for one of the girl guides!). Etc., etc. It’s actually pretty amusing when I stop believing all this.
The good thing is that I’m in this place where if it does happen, I’ll know it’s my path, meant to be, an evolution in the long pregnancy story of my life so far. And if it doesn’t, I feel absolutely fine about that. From all this work and processing, I’ve come to a place where I feel really happy with my life, and having a baby feels more about sharing all the love rather than filling an empty place.
April 2008
Dicken and I make love several times during my most fertile week. One time, we are lying in bed afterward, and I hear something across the room fall. When I get up a short while later, I see that it’s the small plastic statue of an archer, a knickknack I found that reminds me of Theo because of his resemblance to Cupid in my mythology. Of course I take this as a sign.
About two weeks later, I find my period is a few days late, so I take a test. It doesn’t come out one way or the other, but looks like a funny hybrid of yes and no. I call my midwife friend, Jennifer.
“If it’s showing any color at all, that means there’s hCG in your system. So I would say you are pregnant. But take another test first thing tomorrow morning to make sure.”
* * *
“Looks like I might be pregnant,” I tell Dicken.
His eyes are big.
When we realize it’s April, the month we conceived both Jasper and Theo, we laugh.
In the morning, the test is negative. I call Jennifer again.
“Probably a very early miscarriage,” she says.
I’m not too surprised or disappointed. But I cry a little that day, feeling compassion for myself and my body, thinking I deserve an easy, straightforward road from here on out, not a bumpy one.
June 2008
I am pregnant again. Weeks pass, and the dollar store tests I keep taking continue to come out clearly positive.
During these weeks, I am content but not excited. Dicken and I rarely speak of my state; we only tell my workmates so they understand why I’m a little distracted. I feel well physically, which is suspicious. But I am not worried. I stay very much in each moment, convinced that whatever is happening, or not happening, is perfect.
“Will you want to do prenatal testing?” Dicken asks me.
I shake my head. “I can’t see how it would help. I trust this pregnancy. If we have a baby with problems, then we have a baby with problems. Testing ahead of time won’t change anything. I love and want this baby, whoever it is.”
* * *
When I start to bleed, first dark brown spotting, then bright red clots, I cry a lot. But I don’t resist my feelings, and I am proud of myself for being able to stay with what was and is happening, proud that I didn’t get caught in fearful stories.
I bleed heavily for days. Dicken says, “I’m not putting you through this again. It’s too much.”
“I guess we’re not supposed to have another baby,” I agree. “We’ve given the universe a chance, and the answer seems to be no.”
October 2008
Just before my thirty-ninth birthday, Dicken gets carried away during lovemaking.
“Oh boy,” he says. “Where are you in your cycle?”
“I think it’s too late this cycle for me to get pregnant. And I’m obviously not as fertile as I used to be.”
* * *
Later in October, I spend two weeks in Ireland with my father and Maud. While we’re there, I tell Maud my period is a few days late.
“Could you be pregnant?”
I shake my head, then stop. “Actually, we did have a little unplanned ending a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh my gosh, take a test!” Maud says.
In town that day, I go into a chemist’s, but the tests cost ten times what I pay for them in the States.
Maud laughs when I report back to her. “I can’t believe you’d be so cheap at a time like this!”
“Wouldn’t it be amazing,” I say to Maud. “I mean, I asked the universe to tell me what to do. I didn’t want to have to make the decision myself to try or not try, and so on. If I am pregnant, and it was unplanned, it just seems like such a perfect cosmic joke or something.”
“Oh, I really, really hope you’re pregnant!” she says. “I would be so happy.”
Maud comes back from a morning bread run and hands me a brown paper bag. I look inside and see a pregnancy test. “You may be too cheap,” she says, “but I need to know!”
I do the test, and it is positive. I take a photograph of the test with my new iPhone and e-mail it to Dicken.
I think of the international flights and the X-ray machines, but I quickly let that go. I’m determined not to worry, not to get ahead of myself. I will just take this moment by moment.
It’s Election Day in the US. Maud and I stay up through the night to watch the returns. We scream and cheer when Pennsylvania goes to Obama, ensuring his victory. Life feels both safe and exciting in every way.
* * *
I fly home and try not to think about being pregnant. Again, I feel well physically, so I am doubtful. I take a pregnancy test every day for weeks. It comes out strongly positive time after time.
December 2008
In week nine, I notice some spotting. Within a few days, the spotting turns to heavy, bright red blood, and I know it is a miscarriage.
I cry. I also feel blessed, because I’ve been able to have the experience of being pregnant again, and I’ve witnessed my own courage in the face of that. I know now that I’m strong enough and trusting enough to believe that whatever happens is for the best. I was pregnant and not terrified, not eager to get testing and find out as much as I could. I slept well, I stayed calm, I stayed with the moment day after day. That is a huge blessing in itself, and a testament to how much I have moved through in the past few years.