We had the best week.
My husband and I went away for a couple of days and took our dog, Buffy the
Vampire Slayer (she had a real rager of a vacation; she peed in the hotel room
and ate all our bagels while we were out). We got massages and soaked in
lava hot springs and discovered that the lodge at the hot springs also has a
swimming pool that is 96 degrees and is perfectly safe for hopefully future pregnant
me to float around in this winter.
When we got back from
our romance in the mountains, I threw the greatest pumpkin-themed dinner party
ever and made everyone wear Halloween costumes. I served pumpkin soup in
a pumpkin. I created a delicious fall cocktail comprised of rum, spiced apple
cider and a dash of fizzy pumpkin cider, served in martini glasses with skull
ice cubes. Everyone loved it and got sloshed. Above is a picture of me
getting ready to serve the soup. (I look completely insane and that is not even
my Halloween costume, that's just something I had laying around.) I posted it on
Facebook. My husband looked at it for a long time and said, "You look so
happy." I replied, "I am happy!" And it's true.
I thought I would be too afraid, but now I know the worst thing that can happen. If it happens again, I know I will be heartbroken but it won't be such a shock.
I'm still in therapy
but now my sessions are not so much about coping with the grief around the
miscarriage but about dealing with my anxiety. I have been feeling
progressively better but I constantly had this sad edge all around me. This
week, however, I really felt like my old self. I can click "like" on other
people's baby pictures, I stopped avoiding my friend that got pregnant around
the same time that I did and I have been enjoying the pleasure of my husband's
company (wink wink). Life feels normal again. Except ... I finally switched to
decaf, just in case, and I didn't get a gel manicure—I got a regular crappy one
that will be all chipped by the time I finish typing this post. Maybe I'm being
a little paranoid, but I was chatting with this pregnant girl at the nail shop
and I said I was trying to conceive so I didn't want to get gels because you're supposed to
reduce chemicals when you're pregnant, and she was like, "Yeah! That's what my
doctor said, so I stopped getting them too." Which made me feel better; I really
love a good manicure and hate to give it up for no reason at all.
Tomorrow, I'm going
over to my friend's house to work on my dog's Halloween costume. I
haven't seen my friend since the miscarriage because I was too sad to be around her
little daughter, but now I'm looking forward to seeing them. Then I'm going out
for oysters in the evening with the girls; I can't help but think it's
probably the last time I will have oysters for awhile. I don't know why I think
we are going to get pregnant on our first go—I'm probably setting myself up
for disappointment, but I just have this feeling. Plus my husband keeps saying,
"My guys are swimmers!"
When I first started
writing here about trying to conceive after my miscarriage, I felt like a liar
because in my heart, I didn't think I would ever feel like trying again. I
thought I would be too afraid, but now I know the worst thing that can
happen. If it happens again, I know I will be heartbroken but it won't be
such a shock. I'm ready and my husband is ready too. We think the dog
might not be ready, but she'll adjust.
So cross your fingers and wish us luck,
because it's baby-making time.