I love January, because it's the start of a new year. And there's something about a new year that makes me think of the first crisp page in a new novel.
However, this week last year was my last miscarriage. It's kind of tainted January for me. Not because I hold it against January, per se, but because it makes me sad to remember.
I never knew how much I could love and want something that I didn't know. Something I had never met, I had never touched, I had never smelled or kissed... but it hurt as though I had loved and kissed it all my life.
But I never knew. I have PCOS, so periods being delayed, being subjected to a barrage of pregnancy like symptoms, your body doing weird things were all normal to me. So I didn't think anything of it when things were a little off, and I certainly wasn't expecting to get pregnant - we were waiting to get into a new specialist because mine had left the practice. We weren't trying at all. So it was the furthest thing from my mind. Until I had routine bloodwork, and my GP called and asked me to go have more. Then he called me into the office to tell me I had been pregnant (barely pregnant, he'd said -how can someone be barely pregnant? You either are, or you aren't) and miscarried. It was really early, he'd said, under or just 5 weeks. He told me to wait out the bleeding, and then come back to see him to make sure everything's ok.
I rode the train back to work, and continued on with my day - because I didn't know what else to do. My initial thought was "Oh well" and I got through my day feeling only a little bit off. I wasn't going to go there, I told myself. I wasn't going to think about the "could have been's". But then, on the train ride home, I saw a woman with a little wee baby. It hit me then that I was losing that. That a real, live baby had been inside me - even if I hadn't known. A real live child created out of the love my husband and I share. A little piece of my husband... and it was leaving me. It wasn't just an embryo. It was our embryo. Our baby, and I was losing it. I wanted it so badly. I felt we had tried for long enough, we'd fought long enough, I really, really wanted that baby. Ugh. It was very hard.
2012 had been a really long and emotional year - filled with obstacles of the fertility kind (two losses, one surgery and the loss of my ovary). I ended 2012 in a really bad place, and just wanted 2013 to arrive and give us a chance to start over. When my year started with my third loss, I was devastated. I felt like my dreams of motherhood died with the loss of that pregnancy. It was all wrong.
Thankfully, the year improved and it wasn't as bad as 2012 - but I am still struggling with the fear of miscarriage, and how it's tainted my idea of fertility, pregnancy and motherhood. It's strange how something so very small can change everything.