Groundhog Day

Sometimes things happen over
over until you learn something.

David and I spent our one day off working like crazy.  We work a lot this time of year and it's important that we do what we can to keep our domestic life somewhat normal.  As in laundry, food in the fridge and clean sheets.  We got a ton of stuff done, and are both off to work again very early in the morning.  I've been working hard this week and need to take it a bit easier.  Not physical stuff, but just really long hours and I really should be going home for a while or at least early once in a while.  I hate taking my progesterone at work - public bathrooms just aren't the place I feel warm and fuzzy in while poking pills up my yahoo.  

While we made dinner together, we talked about the pregnancy... and how we've gone through this part over and over.  Kind of like that movie "Groundhog Day", with Bill Murray.  It's all the same thing, pregnancy test is positive, lines are darkening, beta number one, beta number two... etc. etc.  Eventually something changes though.  Eventually the story continues, though.  Eventually something different happens.  We're hoping with all we got that this is our new ending to the same old story.  We're hoping we've learned whatever lesson we needed to move on from 'wanting' to 'having'.

Letting whatever will be just wash over
me and finding gratitude whether or not
I get what I think I want.

I'm still really honestly not freaking out.  I'm surprising myself, actually.  It's easy to say I'm going to relax but another thing to actually do it when there is literally a life hanging in the balance.  The life of this baby that's currently growing inside me.  But I've really accepted that I do not have any control over this baby.  Not even when it's just a tiny speck of cells buried deep within my womb; completely surrounded by my energy, my blood, my flesh - not even then do I have any control over that life.  Already it is independent of me while still so intimately connected.  And accepting that has made this part.... livable.  It's not torture this time.

I felt so guilty the first time we miscarried.  I had worked two sixteen hour days back to back in the hot sun, knowing I was pregnant.  I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for that, but I do accept that it happened and there's nothing I can do to change it.    Not just accept what happened, but I feel I've also surrendered to what may be.  Whether it's a warm, squirmy, cooing baby in eight months or miscarriage after miscarriage, I surrender to it.  It's the experience that is important, not getting what I think I want.