However, let’s start with yesterday first.
Yesterday was tough.
Apart from seeing a chirpy and extremely pretty friend (hi Ange!) for a dog walk and a spot to eat in the morning, the rest of the day was a miserable struggle.
You know when people explain that they can’t raise a smile? I now get that. I couldn’t. Apart from when John was giving me a hug and Rupert caught our eye as he had a bit of biscuit stuck on the roof of his mouth and was pulling faces. Sort of doggy gurning.
I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself either. I was just panicked. So, so panicked that it rendered me motionless. The bombarding thoughts of WILL I EVER HAVE A BABY? walloping me in the stomach.
I ask my husband this a lot. ‘Do you think we will have a baby?’ as if he has the solid answer. But he never falters. It’s always a ‘yes, of course we will’ as I stare at him, searching his face for the absolute guarantee that it’s true.
I also just couldn’t be BOTHERED to do anything yesterday. I was gunning for a Thai takeaway for dinner, but husband stepped in and made something instead. And then I felt worse about myself because I felt even more of a burden.
One thing is crystal clear. I’m not myself. You see, I was just convincing myself a few weeks back that ‘myself’ was a mother to be. And then it got swiped away. I feel like I’m spinning round and round. Confused and unsure.
It was an alarming day for me yesterday. I haven’t felt that low since the hospital.
Over a few conversations with the bestie and the big hearted lady I’m doing voluntary work for, I was reminded that my hormones just now are acutely crazed.
My body has gone from being pregnant and prepping for that, to losing loads of blood and clots, hurling me into a complete frenzy of desperate emotions and physical pain, to getting jabbed with methotrexate (a form of chemo) to ultimately end the ill fated pregnancy. And then head first into grief and loss. Only Thursday last week did I get the call from the hospital to tell me that my hcg (pregnancy hormone) has plummeted to 8. From 2,500. Not pregnant. All done. All gone. Now what.
I’ve also gone from daily supplements of Vit D, Magnesium, a pregnancy formula and Omega 3 to nothing. I’m not allowed to take vitamins for a while as the methotrexate whirrs around my insides.
Healthy and happy to drained and blue.
I need to acclimatise to my reality that some days are going to be easier than others I guess, with hope that the dream is yet to come true. But that sure enough, it’s on its way.
I made a to do list for today in bed lastnight which included yoga, meditation and walking. I needed to remind myself to take good care.
And so to today, where we were graced with the sunshine streaming in through the windows. Even though I didn’t get to said to do list as early as I’d hoped as I teetered on the edge of choosing positive over negative as I lay in bed, I slowly got to it.
I stretched in my PJs with an impatient Rupert, huffing about his overdue breakfast and weaving through my arms and legs before just brazenly plonking on my stomach. And then I walked. For an hour. I took to the fields with a podcast in my ears and followed tracks I’d never ventured before, bumping into a Buddhist monk in the middle of a field. Sure. I noticed the pretty flowering weeds and the heat of the sun on my back.
As I neared home I decided a barbecue would be best. A way to keep the momentum of this ‘good day’ going strong. In my walking gear I drove to Tesco with not one eff to give as to my appearance and stocked up on vegan BBQ essentials.
It obviously rained as we sat down to eat but we laughed and ran inside. The dog eager to get his chops around my corn on the cob.
That’s it really. Nothing much else to report. I’m just grateful. Grateful that today wasn’t like yesterday. Grateful for the sunshine, the fields and the birds. Grateful for my husband and tiny dog. Grateful for my home. Grateful for all the amazing people around me that don’t even know that they’re amazing.
Today was good.