Going back to work tomorrow, and I just know somebody, at some point, is going to piss me right off.
For the most part, the people I work with are decent, caring folks. And I do understand that sometimes even the most well-thought-out comment can be mistakenly perceived as a shot. Read: I tend to be defensive.
Someone will tell me this happened for a reason.
Which, really, I hope it did. I hope the karotyping shows some abnormality that gives this loss a purpose. If it is another "perfectly normal fetus", I might just scream.
Someone will tell me god works in mysterious ways.
I will bite my tongue until it bleeds.
Someone will be so bold as to suggest maybe it's for the best, you were really stressed out by the situation
At which point I will burst into sobs.
I had not experienced a pregnancy of my own, failed or otherwise, (failed of course, epic fail), while at this current place of employment. Everyone is now well aware of my history; during the Gestational Festival of 2007-2008/9, I played the pity card on a few occasions so that I would not be subjected to wanton saturation of all things pregnancy-related. We had, I believe, four children and six grandchildren born during that time, and honestly, I was about to gag.
I was able, however, to move past the pain and jealousy somehow, and grew to give a small shit about everyone else's picture perfect fairytale world.
Most recently, say within the past year, I accepted that I was no longer in the "still hoping for a bless-ed miracle" state of mind. Rather, I was starting to enjoy my midlife crisis. Age forty didn't hit me hard; approaching 41 pulled the magic carpet right out from under me. Forty-one meant I was in
my forties. I wanted Change. I needed a challenge. Rather career or personal, I wanted to shake things up a bit. I decided I'd go back to school and finally finish my Master's. My boss approached me about an advancement track meaning more leadership responsibilities and more money, so why not go all-in? I'd even begun to ponder my future marital status because of some long-standing issues that have become practically unbearable. The Boy is an adult now, and I can afford to support myself, why spend the rest of my life stuck in an unhappy situation when there could be greener grasses out there over some other fence? (This is my midlife crisis talking, bear with me).
So, here I am, wanting something different, something more, some Change to usher in my old age... imagine my shock when I found out I was knocked up. Right out of the blue, just like that. Wasn't trying, was no longer considering myself a candidate for such a feat, WTF?
I'll be the first to admit, I wasn't immediately thrilled. I actually was a little upset. OK, alot.
For a brief while I had forgotten that this wouldn't amount to anything, and allowed myself a tiny bit of Freak-Out. But then I accepted it, and moved on to Cautiously Waiting. A few more weeks where NBHHY, and I started to WANT this. Maybe THIS is what I needed? Maybe this IS a blessing and oh man wouldn't it be super-cool to be an old mommy with a second chance at starting over again and things would be different and better and oh what an exciting opportunity!
And then it died.
I mean, what else would it do?
And I feel guilty for ever wishing it hadn't happened.
I feel horrible for not wanting it that first couple of weeks.
Because that is when it stopped growing.
And I feel like I caused it. Nevermind my history and my shit luck.
I found out late in the 6th week and it died just prior to the 8th.
When I had to have my little selfish crisis. Me me me.
Nevermind that I carried it for four more weeks, blissfully unaware.
Like a little reminder that I could have had what I wanted but I blew it again.
Someone, at some point, will remind me how freaked out I was at getting pregnant (I was in shock! I couldn't help but be a little unnerved.)
And that someone will equate the loss with being a relief, and I will get angry. Or bawl. It's kind of a toss-up at this point, because that's all I've been doing lately. I'm mad at the universe and feeling sorry for myself.
And this just sucks. I don't wanna go back to work tomorrow.