I should have talked about this already, but I didn’t want to mar my thanks with this post.
I had a dream this past weekend. In it, I was in a massive multi purpose big box store. Let’s say Target for simplicity. I was wondering up and down the aisles when I passed by the feminine hygiene products. Just like I do in real life, I sort of smiled realizing that I haven’t had to use any of those since May.
Then blood started running down my leg.
I literally had a moment of confusion…like, “Wait, was my period supposed to start…?” Before it occurred to me that no, it absolutely was not supposed to start, and bleeding like this was a very bad thing.
The dream got progressively weirder/worse, as I went from thinking how Spawn was younger than the youngest a baby has ever survived preterm to panicking at the hospital when triage was ignoring me.
Spawn was moving around like crazy, so I felt that if I could just get help, everything would be okay.
A woman, not a nurse or doctor, just some random older woman at the hospital came to me and put her hand on my shoulder. She looked me in the eyes and said, “You haven’t lost anything yet.”
And then I woke up.
I think if the random woman hadn’t showed up, I probably would have woken up crying or in a bit more of a state. Instead I realized that real life Spawn was also moving around like crazy and I desperately needed to empty my bladder.
I became more and more aware on the way to the bathroom. (Two flights of stairs in the dark with the unbalanced belly of a preggo will do that for you.) I started thinking about a blogger I’ve followed from the beginning of my journey.
She’s always funny, usually positive, and we started trying at about the same time. She already has a beautiful little girl with her partner, but this was her turn to be a mother. I mourned for her a few weeks ago when she revealed that she had taken all the tries she wished to with IVF. It wasn’t exactly a logical reaction. While I certainly don’t know her life, she seemed by all accounts to be rather settled into the idea of celebrating her only child and not getting to be pregnant herself.
Still I was again reminded that not everyone gets exactly what they hoped for when starting the journey to parenthood. I am so blessed/lucky that everything worked out for me (and has continued to work out for me) exactly how I wanted it to. I expect the anger and annoyance from other women who have suffered what I only dreamed about. How could I not understand those feelings? Me, who feels too much for far too many all the time?
I’m still vaguely guilty that I never had morning sickness. That Spawn and I have constantly been given top marks in our health. I still have the knowledge in the back of my head that something could still very easily go wrong.
Yesterday was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day and today is the Feast of St. Gerard, the patron saint of women in childbirth/preggos/mothers and unborn children. While I was busy being thankful, so many women were pouring out their hearts to the children they’d lost, or never been given in the first place. It could have made me feel even more guilty, but it didn’t.
It made me even more thankful.
As much as I sympathize with the women who have lost, I cannot begin to fathom what that actually means to them. I also cannot help but hope that I never am able to fathom it.
The dream was more than enough.