Do you ever feel like the one thing you are working through happens to pop up everywhere? What I mean by this is, for example, let’s say you’re on a diet, and bam, you see new milkshakes advertised on television, or your co-worker has the most delicious tacos you’ve ever smelled delivered for lunch. How about if you’ve just gone through a really bad breakup? You’re newly single and suddenly you only hear love songs shuffling on your Spotify! Somehow you only see couples kissing and holding hands on every street you pass.
Let me tell you about the one thing I’ve been working through that has infiltrated my life in every single aspect. During a global pandemic, I suffered a traumatic ectopic pregnancy that resulted in the miscarriage of my first child.
The loss of my first child through emergency, life-saving surgery is not what I ever dreamed or hoped would be a part of my story.
It was the most horrible experience of my life. Something that nightmares are truly made of. A heart-wrenching experience I pray could just be eliminated off this earth in its entirety.
Before that, for too long, my husband and I had tried to conceive for more months than we could count. We were healthy. Dotted every i and crossed every t. Our bodies should have created life with ease. There was nothing medically that was against our favor. The easy way just wasn’t a part of our story.
Can I tell you what it’s like to have an acquaintance casually ask you, “When are you going to start your family?” Your heart almost stops. You want to, quite honestly, slap them across the face and boldly proclaim that you, in fact, DO HAVE a family.
How do you even respond to someone who asks, “Do you have any children?” And you do—you know the answer, the truth, but you cannot possibly tell this person you barely met your entire life story. So you politely smile and say “one in Heaven.”
Oh, what I would give to no longer have anyone ask me those questions ever again, but you know what? They keep coming.
The one thing I am working through happens to pop up everywhere. The questions. The interactions. The random pregnant women I see EVERYWHERE. For me, it happens to be seeing a swollen belly of a patron at my favorite nail salon, who in fact, is seated right next to me in the pedicure chairs. When I overhear friends complain about the challenges of homeschooling because their children’s schools aren’t open. What we would give to have a child at home with us.
Anger. Bitterness. Sadness. Grief. Fear. Anxiety over “When will you start your family?” and you already have.