I told many people that I'd start blogging again when I got pregnant. Well, hold the diaper cake and non-alcoholic punch because we're not there yet.
When I started this blog three years ago, my motivations were relatively selfish. As an overworked and under stimulated government employee, I was in desperate need of a creative outlet. I had just recently married Nick, my main squeeze of 7+ years, and with the monotony of my job and my post-wedding depression I NEEDED a project. I love make-up and I love writing, so to put the two together in the creation of the blog seemed like a natural choice.
Fast forward to February 2010, when my career path, and subsequently my quality of life, changed for the better. I was hired as a Marketing Manager and my dream of landing a position where I could write and be creative had come true. With the advent of my new job, my need for a creative outlet lessened significantly, as I was given the ability to write and think outside the box almost every day at work. And...so was the demise of Read My Lipgloss in it's original format.
But then 2012 came around and the proverbial "ish" hit the fan. My Ma-Ma died. I turned 30. We got pregnant. And I subsequently miscarried. All in the course of 4 months. My need for an outlet had returned, although this time it was personal. And blogging is cheaper than therapy. So here were are.
It was 5:15 AM on Tuesday, March 20th, otherwise known as the first day I could take one of the pregnancy tests that allegedly produce results "5 days before your missed period." Having little to no patience, I waisted no time and sprung out of bed, grabbed the pregnancy test and did my thing. The digital pregnancy stick very quickly discerned "not pregnant." Well damn. I moped back into bed, woke up Nick and said, "Babe. We're not pregnant." Nick rolled over and with the conviction of a coach in the locker room at half-time and said, "Don't worry Sa. God has a plan."
Well God apparently has a sense of humor as well because three days later I came home from an afternoon with CPG, go to pee quickly prior to dinner out with Nick, and for some unknown reason decided to take another test. PREGNANT. Wait, what?! I had no words. Some crazy combination of excitement, anxiety, disbelief, and jubilation came over me. I walked downstairs, pee stick in hand and put it in front of Nick's face. And then this happened:
Nick (completely taken aback): IS THAT YOURS?!
Sara (laughing): No Nick, I stole someone else's pregnancy test. YES IT'S MINE!
Nick: But you weren't pregnant on Tuesday.
Sara: Obviously I was Nick. It was just too soon to take the test.
Nick: (insistent): Well you gotta take another one.
Sara: (completely panicked): I don't haaaave another one!
Nick: Well then we gotta go to CVS.
In 2.5 second flat, we're in the car - both sitting, saying nothing, with terrified looks of anticipation and glee. "You know Sa, you gotta get multiple kinds...we're gonna need to do cross brand testing," Nick pipes up, while I'm thinking "he has no idea these bad boys are like $18 a pack."
We get three tests and head back home. "Okay go pee" Nick demands. "Nick I JUST went. I don't have to go again yet." Frantically he fills up my water jug and starts yelling, "Chug. Chug. Chug. Chug." I guzzle until I have to go again. Nick follows be to the restroom, I close the door, do my thing and within 2 seconds I hear the Rocky Theme Song from the other side of the door, which quickly transitions into Journey's "Don't Stop Believing." I love my husband and I couldn't help but think, "I can't wait to tell our kid this story."
3 positive pregnancy tests later...we were pretty convinced "we're having a baby!!!!!!!"
And that's the story of our pregnancy discovery. It was the most insanely hilarious wonderful exhilarating Friday night of my life. Sunday of that weekend, we told our family who, as you might imagine were absolutely over the moon. It's one of the things I love most about my family. We get excited. We're gushers. We make big deals over little things and insanely big deals over big things. We jump up and down and hug and clap and squeal. So you can only imagine the thrillingly joyous scene when Nick and I shared our good news. To understand the full on celebration mode, you have to first understand that the question of when Nick and I would finally get on the baby bandwagon and get pregnant was the big hush, hush convo in the fam. Of course we weren't supposed to know that everyone was talking about it behind our backs, but my family is about as subtle as a tack...so all of this is to say that this news was big and it was long awaited.
One of the people I was most excited to tell was my cousin, Katy. Katy and I grew up together - like sisters - only one year apart in age, living next door to one another, and both being raised by our Ma-Ma. Katy and her husband had done the baby thing well before Nick and I, as they already had a most precious little princess in their 2 year old daughter, Reagan. I told Katy. She freaked. And she told me she was pregnant too. WHAT?!??!! We're having TWO babies?!! She asked me when I was due and I looked at her like "I'm 5 minutes pregnant here, I've never done this before and I have absolutely no idea when my due date is...like December-ish?" Without hesitation she whipped out her iphone, pulled up the pregnancy center app, entered in the 1st date of my last period and told me my due date was December 2nd...and hers was two days later!!!! People, words cannot begin to sufficiently express the tremendous anticipation, love, and thankfulness we felt in my aunt's backyard that night. The emotion was overwhelming and the joy was tangible.
That night my dad invited the whole family to our local watering hole, El Paso in Springfield, where he volunteered to treat everyone. Say whaaat?! Now you know the PARTY IS ON because my dad hadn't paid for a family dinner since Nick and I got married four years prior. The margaritas and laughter were a flowing. Katy and I stuck to our waters and I asked her about 10 million questions - what I could/couldn't eat. What I should expect to feel like. "Can I take baths? Yes, oh good. Can I still work out? Yes, oh darn." Our husbands were busy kibitzing about how our two sons would grow up to dominate as the dynamic cousin duo on the lacrosse field. Of course in their minds we were both pregnant with boys and naturally they would be stellar athletes. Katy and her husband were both voted "Most Athletic" for their high school superlatives, so their kid's athletic prowess was in the bag. Me and Nick? Well, I was voted "Most Sprited" and Nick was voted "Most Friendly," so while we may not have an Olympic athlete on our hands, this kid was going to be as outgoing as they come. Bottom line...besties were having babies...together.
Fast forward to Tuesday, April 24th, Nick and I found out at our first doctor's appointment that the fetus had no heartbeat. The OB said he/she had stopped progressing somewhere around week 6. And the shock, pain, and devastation slowly began to sink in. I distinctly recall feeling like I was watching somebody else live my life. Like some sort of weird out of body experience where I was watching this family fall apart from the outside in. And then the sharp knife of reality would twist inside me and I would realize...this was real. This was our life. Our baby. My mind was racing:
"How could we have miscarried? I didn't bleed. Everything I had read about miscarriages said I would bleed. Did I even feel it? What about Christmas? Baby Bracco was supposed to be here by Christmas time. I already had the family photo and "Baby's First Christmas" outfit in my head. And what about July 4th? According to my calculations July 4th was going to be when we found out whether it was a boy or girl. And what about Katy's baby? Her baby was going to be best friends with our baby and dominate the lacrosse field together, remember? And my Pinterest boards. I had nurseries for both sexes done and ready to go. And...what will we tell people? We had already told so many of our friends and family because as the eternally optimistic people that we both are, we had no reason to believe we shouldn't tell our closest friends and fam. Everyone is going to be so upset."
I felt so naive. So played. So hurt for Nick. So hurt for my family. So hurt for the little living thing in my belly I had read about constantly and grown to love immeasurably in four short weeks. Growing up, I was never one to say "I want to be a mom." I always knew in my heart that I wanted kids, or at least one, but I had other things I wanted to tackle first. So Nick and I were very intentional about when I would stop taking birth control as the women in my family were known to be some fertile myrtles. I didn't want to stop taking the pill until I was ready to get pregnant. I came to realize through the joy of our pregnancy discovery and the subsequent massive change in perspective that occurred over the next four weeks, just how much I wanted a baby. Nick too. We were on board with this having a baby thing - way more than I think either of us thought possible. I was so ready to hold that sweet baby in my arms. To smell their sweet smell and nudge their soft little face with my nose and give them sweet kisses. I was ready to experience that ultimate fulfillment that only mothers know and find out what it means to love someone more than yourself.
I learned that I would have a DNC that Friday. The story for the four days that followed are for another blog post at another time. I've already written more than I intended. Apparently I needed the release.
So here's the deal...I want my readers to understand my intentions. I don't write this for sympathy, so please don't feel compelled to give it. Having a miscarriage was one of the most horrific, unbearable experiences of my life. It ranks right up there with losing my Ma-Ma, just 3 months prior. But Nick and I remain 100% confident that this was part of God's master plan. I don't like it. I don't understand it. And I wish it had happened differently, but it didn't.
I share this story for two main reasons; 1) to encourage other women who've suffered this loss, so they may know they are not alone and that better days are ahead and 2) as my own coping mechanism. Selfishly, helping others also helps me feel better, stronger, and more confident in the fact that the pee stick will once again read "PREGNANT" and more importantly, when it's God's timing, Nick and I will be blessed with a little one. So when you see me at the grocery store or the next time we catch up on Facebook, please, really do not feel like you have to address my miscarriage. This blog is about moving forward and keeping the faith because just like Journey said...
Don't Stop Believing.
Je zorgverzekering als je 18 wordt
3 months ago