When Seth was around preschool age and he’d get upset, we’d often try to sort out the matter by talking, snuggling and rocking. Once he’d calm down he’d burrow his face into my chest. (I know! Insert your own “motorboat” joke here.) In his words, he was “wipin’ ob-fff da ca-wi-yin.”  (”Wiping off the crying” if you don’t understand the toddler dialect.) Once accomplished, all was fine. It was as if a dried face was the emotional equivalent to a clean slate. He was ready to start anew. 

So last week when I found I had miscarried, I cried. Alot.

I have learned the hard way that when I feel utterly depleted, I just need to be left alone for a few hours. If I try to continue on with the daily chaos of life, that feeling intensifies and it takes longer for me to pull myself out of that pit. Thankfully, I have a very wise husband who understands this and gives me that space when I need it. 

So last Friday night Marc came home and took care of our son while I had my alone time. After a few hours, I decided I had cried enough. I know I’m very fortunate. I’ve got a healthy little boy, wonderful friends and family. I’ve taken quite a bit of solace in those these things. I also realized I need to take better care of myself (less sweets and soda, more water and walks) than I had been before this surprise pregnancy. 

So I took a page out of my little guy’s book. I “wiped ob-ffed da ca-wi-yin” that night and looked at Saturday as a clean slate. There are still moments where my eyes start to water and my heart breaks all over again. I “wipe off the cryin’” when I need to then try to focus on the future. I’m moving forward, slowly, but alas I’m beginning to heal.  

The support I received after this post was amazing. (Thankfully, the scary ordeal is no longer “scary” nor an “ordeal”.) But I wanted to thank everyone who took time to read the post and comment. So I’ll be thanking a group of people as a part of each post until I’ve thanked everyone. So thanks to: Mama Geek, Jo, Jordan, Nicole, Kelli, Jen, Isis23, Jenn, Laurie, Nancy R, Stacie, Amalie, Farrell,Imstell, Nonlinear Girl, Debra, Jessica, Candygirlflies, and Diana.

I should have known better than to announce a pregnancy in the first trimester. I should have known better than to let the fertility gods know we were thrilled with their decision. And I should have known better than to start cleaning out my office, thinking of it now as “the baby’s room”. Because today some cosmic force decided we were in need of a blind-sided, bitchslap.

The embryo growing within me was more than a developing clump of cells. It was a growing bundle of hope. For a number of reasons, 2008 was a very tough year for my husband and me. Yet we survived. We might not have gotten through it all gracefully, but we withstood the hardships and managed to gain some valuable insights along the way. We saw this delicate, tiny surprise as the cosmos’ ”reward” for surviving the struggle. This baby we’d tried to conceive for years was a result of love recaptured and restored.

An ultrasound from a few weeks ago revealed a strong, beating heart. We were elated and started to refer to the baby as “Roo”. But when today’s ultrasound brought silence and stillness, Marc and I both knew what would come next. This has become a familiar path for us… The experience begins with the ultrasound tech’s awkward silences and after a few minutes, a quiet apology…  It ends with numbly scheduling a surgery and driving home only to realize you aren’t coming home the same person you were a mere hour ago…

At some point this week, I will emerge from an artificial sleep and stare into the bright lights of a surgical recovery room. I will hear a nurse cheerfully say, “Its all over. You did fine.” As she helps me get dressed, I’ll know that our little Roo is no longer inside of me. My husband will wheel me out of the center and gently help me in the car. But the grogginess won’t prevent me from noticing the physical feeling of hollowness inside me. 

My body will heal. There will be good days. There will be bad days. There will probably be a time or two where I call my mom to cry. But at least we have our Seth. Our sweet, silly, lively, little man. Maybe someday we’ll have more children. Maybe not. For now, we hold our son close. We learn what we can from this experience. We shed tears when we need to. We laugh, cry and wonder aloud, “What else is the universe going to throw our way?”

We keep our hearts open. And we remain thankful for that burst of sunshine we revelled in this winter — as fleeting as it was.

In hindsight, this surprise pregnancy shouldn’t have been that much of a “surprise” to us. Looking back I realize we were teasing and taunting the fertility gods. They saw what was going on and decided, “Hey, that couple looks like they get at least seven consistent hours of sleep a night. And they seem to have some energy as well. I know! Let’s ensure she gets knocked up this month! That’ll fix THEIR wagon.”

Indeed it has.

I’m going to tell you exactly what happened. (Well, not the conception part.) And how you too can tempt the fertility gods (or avoid tempting the fertility gods).

1.) Lose weight. Get within two pounds of your pre-pregnancy weight. (Don’t recommend losing it the way I did tho. We are STILL triying to pay off the hospital bills. OY!)

2.) Find not one, but TWO perfect pairs of jeans. (That make your butt look good and you feel great.)

3.) Replace sensible shoes with a number of sexy high heeled shoes, strappy sandles and boots.

4.) Since you’ve lost that weight and found some kick ass jeans, you will need some closer fitting tops to show off smaller waistline. Buy many. Feel confident in doing so because you are POSITIVE you’ll never get pregnant again.

5.)While we’re on the clothing subject, get rid of maternity clothes, get rid of a bunch of baby clothes and give away stroller and stuff like that.

6.) Go out with your *feisty girl friends who love to have fun. Start doing this on a regular basis.

7.) Rediscover the hubby. Flirt more. Dance more. Laugh more. Find that your marriage is far healthier now (and more fun) than it has been in ages. 

Viola! You should be pregnant within a few month’s time.

What’s the phrase? “We plan. God laughs.”

The support I received after this post was amazing. (Thankfully, the scary ordeal is no longer “scary” nor an “ordeal”.) But I wanted to thank everyone who took time to read the post and comment. So I’ll be thanking a group of people as a part of each post until I’ve thanked everyone. So thanks to: Sugar, Babybloomr, Xytrex, AMC, Cereal Dieter, qt, Amy in StL, Sugared Harpy, Rachel, Jennifer, Susan, Chris Cactus, Queen of the Mayhem, Jo, Mary, Tori, Maggie, Dammit, Heather, Michelle, WhyMommy, Carmasez, and Adventures in Babywearing,

*Feisty girlfriends (and our fun evenings out) have seen me through a lot of really tough stuff in 2008. Thank you Dana, Chris, Sarah, and Jess. btw- Tina? We miss you!

One quiet evening after ”the boy” was off to bed, the hubby offered to make me cosmo. (We’d started having a drink at night now and again when we were alone. It was a lovely way to sit down, talk about our days, and relax.)

I told him to wait before he made that drink. My period was late and I should probably take a pregnancy test. I could create a structure the size of the Taj Mahal with all of the sticks I’ve peed on over the years. You know, back when we had been TRYING…

The hubby laughed skeptically and began to ice the shaker. I took the test. The results came quick, like usual. But unlike the other elevenity bazillion times, I couldn’t stop staring at the findings. I starred.

And starred.

And starred.

After YEARS of trying, I had often wondered if my husband had gotten a vasectomy on the sly. Over time, I accepted and embraced being the parent of one. I was already making plans for all of that money we wouldn’t have to spend on putting subsequent children through college.  Until a few weeks ago, the only “babies” on my brain were of the canine variety.

But within an hour’s time it felt natural and exciting to talk about “the baby” — as if the little person was already upstairs sleeping in the crib. As if this little person had always been with us.

So the due date is late August. The heartbeat is strong and solid. Odds of survival are at 90 percent. And the new kid has been dubbed “Roo.” (A nickname we picked out many years ago.)

Seth is very excited (especially about the idea of a younger kid thinking he’s the coolest, smartest dude on the planet).

Marc is already campaigning for a third.  I’m thinking that vasectomy will take place in mid-September…

The support I received after this post was amazing. (Thankfully, the scary ordeal is no longer “scary” nor an “ordeal”.) But I wanted to thank everyone who took time to read the post and comment. So I’ll be thanking a group of people as a part of each post until I’ve thanked everyone. So thanks to: Tash, Mandy, Furiousball, Shonda Little, Angel Smith, Christina the Wench, Kim, Jenny, Laura Healy, Toni, Rose, Elismsue, Jasph, Marrdy, Lilfootsmommy, Linda J, Robin, Fishy Girl, Ashley, The Funky Feline, and Jessica.