Monday, October 29, 2007

That which does not kill me only makes me stronger

A year ago today, I was on bed rest recovering from my miscarriage surgery -- probably more so physically than mentally.

It's strange that in the midst of all of this excitement and happiness about this baby, I can't help but mourn the loss of our last one. The memories come to me in snippets when I least expect them, almost like a bad dream.

It first hit me a few weeks ago when we went to pick out pumpkins at a nearby farm. I suddenly remembered selecting a third mini pumpkin last year. Neither one of us mentioned it as we walked around perusing the selection, but neither one of us mentioned getting a third pumpkin either.

Over the days that followed, I started to remember what a hard time I had last fall. I thought about the horrific week of waiting to find out if our pregnancy was "viable," all the while subconsciously knowing that it wasn't. Then there was the surgery and the pains that followed, resulting in one of the scariest nights of my life and an emergency trip to the hospital in an ambulance.

I remember just wanting it to be over. I wanted my body back.

Ironically, I've discovered the physical feelings are very similar to the final weeks of a full-term pregnancy: I'm ready for it to be over. I want my body back.

But it's so different this time around. I want it to be over for a completely different reason. I'm ready to see my daughter and get to know this little person I've been nurturing for the past nine months. I'm also looking forward to bending over and putting on socks in relative comfort. And seeing my feet again.

Realizing that the memories were digging at me, I decided to scroll back through my blog and read everything I wrote about last October. It wasn't because I was dwelling on it, but more as a reminder of how far we've come.

It helped me put into perspective the complaints I've been having in recent weeks as I struggle to get through the most basic activities -- like sleeping and walking a few feet. Even though I'm tired, even though I'm ready for this all to be over, even though I want my body back, I know that I would've given anything to be experiencing these types of problems last year.

And it gives me strength.


Erinn said...

Thank you for leading us through both journeys. Reading your posts takes my mind away from the difficulties that my husband and I are going through. I am so excitied for you and Jerry and thrilled that your little girl is going to have wonderfully, awesome parents. I am sure that I speak for the rest of your readers when I say that we can't wait to meet your Little Miss.

Anonymous said...

you are soooooooooooooo strong!

the plainsman said...

Well Kelly, I had been following your often funny and ironic blog from a random Xanga search for a while before your first pregnancy, and then it took that unexpected turn last October.

I can remember a foreboding silence of a day or so, then the first indications of what likely had happend, and very uncharacteristically, I shed some tears for a couple and an unborn child I had never met, such was the power of your words.

And as I somehow happened to catch that post within the hour it was entered, I then felt compelled to keep the link open, refreshing it and catching the many reactions of others during the next two hours as they were entered. A most heartfelt experience and at the same time, experienced though the net, but yet still as I might have if you were my closest friend, co-worker, neighbor or in my own family.

But it was not just this Plainsman who those words had reached, you had been the one, Kelly, who had finally give clear voice to many who had never spoken of a similar experience, of similar feelings with one of life's darker turns that seemingly had been swept into a invisible corner by society.

Perhaps that is why I have followed your and Jerry's journey since so closely; a life affirming journey in fact, so well translated into written words. And have even tried to make you smile with some inventive twists on "the plainsman" name.

I do hope that somehow all of it may be formed into a book, as it will be of value and give stregnth to others, with plenty of smiles and laughs, and Toby, too.

Even if the book does not have "Pineapple Trees" in the title!

Chelsea said...

You really are strong, and I'm so happy for you now! However, miscarriages are frequent in my family so I know the feeling. Nothing is more special than holding a baby that you know took so much, even when things were hard.

I just read your post from two days ago about the wive's tales, and playing Clue has induced labor in my family! Damn, and we never finish the game either.

LeslieAnn said...

It's been amazing to see the difference between last year and this one. So much can change in one year.

I'm glad you're doing well and are happy. And soon you'll have a beautiful little girl in your arms.

Anonymous said...


Tiffany said...

You are so strong Kelly... thanks for letting us be a part of your journey. I think a lot of us feel like we "know" you and Jerry, which makes this upcoming event in your lives so special for us as well!

Ray said...

It's good to know that you can look back, and maybe still feel sad, but know that you can get through it. That in the end you have a little girl waiting to meet you. I'm glad you got pregnant again, although of course I'm sorry for the loss of your first child. Still, you would have made a great mother then, and you'll make a great mother now. You and Jerry will make great parents.

I hope you get to meet her soon. Sooner than we all think. =)

Take, care.

aahcoffee said...

I've been a reader since before your sad time last October, and I couldn't be more thrilled than if you were my best friend, living right next door to me, that you are having your dream come true moment soon. You've been through a lot to get this little one, and I pray that God will bless you greatly. Hugs and good luck in the coming weeks!!!

Laura said...

Wow I cannot believe it has been a year.
Mourn the past but also look ahead to the future.