And while I'd like to think of my experience as unique, I'm fairly certain that having the luxury of NOT being home, in the supporting arms of the man I love and in the soft cradle of my own bed, may have helped me fast forward through much of the proverbial sinkhole. I went through it just like everyone else who ever has.
Sadness? Check.
I delivered the news to my husband from the flu-riddled waiting room of an Oshkosh Urgent Care facility on a dying cell phone. When done, I made my way through the fog to the main exit where a blast of frigid air took my breath away as the automatic doors wouldn't wait to kick me out into the blizzard until I was ready to face the world again. I stepped out and yelled out loud with tears freezing to my cheeks, "It's SO f*cking cold!!!" I was sad. I hated the cold. I walked aggressively across the icy parking lot, daring my body to fall after taking such care upon my arrival.
I drove myself back to work in a borrowed car to finish a few things up before a hair appointment I had made weeks before. Canceling or flaking out is out of character for me and just wasn't an option. I'm glad I went. The salon was a soft and warm refuge to the harsh world outside. On the reception desk was a vase of bright orange and yellow tulips; a reminder of the hope of spring on a hateful day.
Denial. Big Check.
I hitched a ride to corporate housing and fell into the couch, not knowing whether to take a shower or get into my PJs. So I just sat there, staring in the darkening and sterile room alone and numb. Then it hit me. This pregnancy was a miracle! God can make the blind to see and the dead to rise and he would NOT take my Nugget from this blessed life! I have faith, dammit!
I imagined that there were signs EVERYWHERE that this reality was not happening; the tulips, the scripture I had been reading, the confusion in tests about the size of this and the weeks of that. The plane ride home and being SO close to heaven that I could almost touch the full moon and the face of God himself. It was all a mistake and I would wake up with no symptoms of death.
Not only was I standing in the middle of two rivers in Egypt, I was feverishly and shamelesly asking friends on Facebook to hop aboard my rickety boat.
The line between denial and hope ran very thin for me for days.
Anger? Oh hell yeah. Check.
Why weren't people around me more sensitive to what I was going through? Did my ungrateful co-workers REALLY just question my dedication? Did God REALLY just dangle that beautiful carrot in front of me just to yank all my dreams away? What did I do wrong and why didn't I stop this from happening? Geez, Gina...just GET OVER IT already!
Thankfully, the only person I did not become angry with was my husband. He wasn't physically there for me to blame.
Bargaining. A bit.
I didn't make any deals with the devil or try to negotiate good deeds for a miracle from God, but I was very explicit in my prayers about being willing to do ANYTHING for that miracle. I kept my options open.
Depression. Check.
I didn't want to get out of bed, but I had to. I didn't want to get dressed and put on make-up, but I had to. I didn't want to look anybody in the eye or smile, let alone converse with them about things that really didn't matter to me. But I had to. Being alone at my workplace, insane work ethic, stubbornness and pride have carried my heart though this stage.
It's a tough one to fight and there are tiny moments that I give myself to avoid the big one. I have my husband that refuses to let me sink. I have my God who's hope is my anchor. I have my Nugget that I can't disappoint.
Acceptance. Yes.
This happened. It happened to me. All wonderful 9 weeks of Nugget and 8 magical days knowing. The unmistakable bond. I have felt love like I never imagined I would have chance to experience. I had breathed in life with every drop of air. I had finally opened up to happiness and allowed it enclose me in it's infinite bubble.
For a moment, I was part of a club and it was the best time of my life. It changed me and is part of me now. It is my cross to bear. It is my cross to share!
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