It was not wrapped up in a tiny box.
It was not something I could wear on my finger, wrist or neck.
I had been married exactly six months.
So it should have been no surprise, really, that I was pregnant.
What a gift to be given!
My then husband gave me the gift of a life inside my body.
I was in tears. They were not exactly happy tears.
They were more along the lines of shock. I went through a wide range of emotion in a short amount of time.
The thoughts that initially went through my head went something like this:
"OhmyGodOHmyGodOHMYGodOHMYGOD!!! What am I going to do? How did this happen? I mean I KNOW how it happened but OH MY GOD! There is no way I can be somebody's mother. No way. I can not have this baby. I am not happy about this. I can't believe this is happening to me! What is Mom going to say? She is going to be so disappointed in me. I am not ready to be a mother. Scott is not ready to be a father. Why am I feeling like this? Why am I not happy about this?"
I could not understand why I was not happy about the whole situation. I was scared and worried. Confused as to why I kept thinking that it was not wise for us to have a child so soon into our marriage.
I decided to give my sister a call. If anyone could help me sort out my feelings, it would be her. After all, she had gotten pregnant fairly early in her marriage too.
On the phone I give the news to my sister. She is ecstatic. She asks me if I want it to be a boy or a girl. She asks me if I am having morning sickness yet. She tells me that we need to get together so that she can help me buy maternity clothes and things for the baby.
I try to tell her how I am feeling. How I feel emotionally about it. She tells me that it's just hormones making me feel the way I feel. That once I am farther along in my pregnancy I will start to feel differently.
I am not comforted. I do not want this baby.
I have thoughts of abortion. I do not voice them to anyone. Everyone else is so happy.
I have my first doctors appointment. He confirms that I am indeed pregnant. I am told when my due date will be. I am told to take my prenatal vitamins.
I wait for the doctor to ask me how I feel.
I wait for the doctor to ask me if this is something that I want.
I wait to be given other options. Something other than keeping the baby.
No alternative is given. I keep my thoughts and worries to myself.
I remain horrified about everything that is happening.
I remain the sole person in my little circle of support who has any doubts about this pregnancy. I am the odd man out.
I do everything that I am told to do.
I eat 3 square meals a day.
I have healthy snacks.
I exercise a little bit.
I take my vitamins.
My 12 week appointment comes along. The doctor can not find a heartbeat. I am told not to worry. That sometimes the heartbeat is hard to find. I am sent to have an ultrasound that same day just to make sure everything is OK. It is confirmed that there is no heartbeat. I have miscarried.
I cry. I am sad. I feel guilty.
Surely it was my ill feelings about this baby that caused me to miscarry. I know that I am being punished for the way that I reacted.
Deep down inside? There is a sense of relief. The turmoil that was going on inside my head quiets. The worry recedes. I relax. I feel better.
I am scheduled to have surgery.
Surgery comes and goes.
Things start to feel normal again.
Scott and I do not talk about the baby. We do not voice our feelings to each other. I sense that he is sad but I also sense relief in him too. Maybe he wasn't as happy about the baby as he let on.
This is the beginning of the end for us. This loss did not bring us closer. Did not make our bond stronger.
It will be three more years before I address how I feel and grow brave enough to tell him that I am not happy and want to divorce.
I am turning 33 today. I remember this time in my life like it was yesterday.
I am not pregnant. Even though I wish, with every fiber of my being, that I was.
I am haunted by these shadows from the past.
