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Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Thankful for the fog

  Do you ever have one of those days where you just don't know how you feel? Honestly, the past few days if people have asked me how I am doing, I haven't had a clue how to respond. I want to say, "Great! How are you?!" But that's a lie. I think, "I should tell them how I'm really doing, not great. Not excited. All I want to do is lay in bed and watch sad movies."  I want to be honest... waah wahhhh Debbie Downer.  But the truth is, I have no idea.  Apparently there are these things called hormones, and I hear they've got a strong hold on me. I can go from happy and fine to upset and angry and sad and anything else at the drop of a hat. One word in conversation sends my brain from candycanes and snowflakes to wanting to put on my comfy pants and lay back on the couch while giving everyone the finger.  Happy news shared by others just reminds me of the happy news we were planning on sharing yesterday.
You see, the plan was to make a really cute pregnancy announcement and stuff it in christmas cards that all of D's family would open at Christmas together and they would all be excited. Instead they each got nothing.  I guess I could have still sent them all cards, but I didn't.

I have a lot of stories like that recently. "We could have done this, but we didn't." "I thought about doing that, but I didn't." I'm really good at telling stories.

I just feel like I'm walking through a thick fog. It's not sunny, it's not rainy, it's not pretty, it's not ugly. It's just blah.  I keep thinking, "All I need is a good cry, that'll help." But it's like I've run out of tears and not been able to rebuild my supply.  I guess this is one of those in-between stages where progress is being made? Yeah?  Anywho, I think I'll go over some more things for which I am thankful, since I can't come up with anything else uplifting to write...

At first, I was really upset with my (former) doctor because he did an u/s at 5.5 weeks. YOU CAN'T SEE ANYTHING at 5.5 weeks. Just a couple of bubbles. At this time, he saw the 2 sacs, 1 with 1 and 1 with 2.  I was furious because of the unnecessary stress this potentially put on the two of us. Most Drs won't U/S until at least 7 weeks, but he just "likes to".  And told me over and over that it could end up just being 1 or 2 by week 7-8, and I was mad because I could have been perfectly NOT KNOWING that I potentially lost a baby. Not an embryo. Not a yolk sac, I'm sorry if you disagree, but It's a baby. However, looking back, I still am furious at him for his lack of compassion and understanding, but I am incredibly thankful now that I knew each of them. Yes, I had a few weeks of straight up FREAKING OUT about "how are we going to afford three babies? How will we feed them?! How will we cart them around?! We're going to have to BUY A VAN! How will they fit in our house?! What will we do with the dogs?" But more than that, I had a few weeks of knowing three different babies were there. I was able to lay around and talk to them (even though their ears were still developing) and pray for them each individually.  I think it might have been easier to think that I just lost 1 (right? Surely? No? Who knows), but I am glad to have known them all individually.

I'm thankful for people who don't know what to say.  Some people have provided comic relief by saying such outlandish and inappropriate things that the only thing I could do was store them in my bank and laugh to keep from crying (or assaulting them...?) and others have just been honest and told me they have no idea what to say. That's fine. There is nothing to say. Nothing makes it better or takes it away. However, I think my favorite so far is that they just obviously weren't ready for such awesome parents. Because let me tell you, that is the truth. Awesome parents we shall be.  Clueless and lost and sleep deprived and crazy out of our minds in love with the baby(ies) we are meant to have.

I'm thankful for this foggy funkiness that's going on. The pain is no longer so sharp and fresh. It has turned into a dull nagging pain I know "it gets better" and all, and I guess I assumed that I would be sad one day and perfectly fine the next. Apparently I thought I was tougher than this, that I could handle this and it wouldn't affect me as much as it appears to have affected other people I have seen go through this.   Y'all, I was wrong. But I know that it gets better and I think sometimes it's ok to be foggy.

And you know what I think about fog?  Yes, fog can be dangerous. No one wants to drive in fog, people don't want to get stuck out in it, all that. But when I think about fog, I think about spring/fall morning fog.  You wake up, it's foggy, it's nasty, you can't see the other side, but then it slowly lifts.  It goes from thick muck nasty fog to a light, fluffy fog, and eventually the sun comes in and burns it all up. Some of the prettiest days I can remember have started out super crazy foggy.  All you can do on those days is sit and wait for the sun to come and the fog to lift.

That's what I'll be doing.

Well, that and packing up all the Christmas stuff and vacuuming the pine needles and sorting through presents/putting them away and putting away everything christmassy... because I'm off today and I am tired of the mess in this house.

And then I'm going to take a nap.

♥ Em


  1. Beautifully expressed, Emily. So many people, myself included, couldn't put into words what it feels like. Thank you for helping others to understand a bit better how it feels. You and your family are constantly on my mind and in my prayers. The days, months and years to come will certainly bring short times of that sharp, stabbing pain, but I have faith that the beautiful "day" you described will come to you (and me) soon. Much love and prayers!!

    1. Thanks, Erin. :) I'm getting there... 2 steps forward and 1 back.
      Thankful to have made it through the holidays and be able to start getting back into my routine. I think acting normal may make me feel more normal... right?