nourishing & unapologetic
One year ago today I had the first suspicion I was pregnant.
We spent the night before celebrating the wedding of one of our favorite couples on the planet in the most idyllic setting in the Ozarks. Although it was a late night of fun, I wasn’t hungover (card-carrying drink-waster right here. Coke, Diet Pepsi and Dr. Pepper are my party beverages of choice), but this nausea was REAL.
While Nick slept I snuck out to snag a Sprite (from the vending machine right near our room) to go with the famed ginger snaps Big Cedar leaves in each room. (And if you didn't know, ginger is a natural remedy for queasiness.) Serendipity, I tell ya.
I rallied enough to pretend nothing was unusual and chalked it up to a lack of sleep. I hadn't fathomed we were expecting so it was only a quiet suspicion being tamped out by the loudness of doubt.
This selfie is from the night before. It’s one of the last pictures I have of my former self (albeit with professional hair and makeup 💄 ✨).
It would take me five more days after this picture to get the courage to take the home pregnancy test I'd so tentatively purchased while fervently praying I didn't see anyone I knew during my self-checkout process. But once I did take the test, it would take me all of about 15 seconds to realize our lives would never be the same.
Two pink lines: Ubiquitous. The symbol of song lyrics-- the cliche that's so cloying, it's true. Two pink lines was all it took to change my heart and soul.
From that point forward, the dreams and plans about what you'll do with this pregnancy, growing bump, and soon-to-be babe are almost immediate. The gravity of the responsibility and gift are intuitively recognized. The innate need to be better is instantaneous.
And, then when our ultrasound was silent, the despair was deafening.
For some reason, I never posted this picture, other than the original Snap it's from, but have held onto it through all my necessary and all too often iPhone photo purges. I think my subconscious kept this photo because I knew what it represented.
This is the last picture of me, the woman who didn't know about miscarriage.
That Jess... I wouldn't go back to her for a second.
I was the woman who still knew about infertility but now also knew a new kind of disappointment.
I was the woman who didn't know about loss.
I was the woman who didn't know know that miscarriages happen a lot.
I was the woman who didn't recognize that patience is a learned practice.
I was the woman who didn't yet know that this level of empathy and frustration can co-exist.
I was the woman who didn't share all her heart, but now knows the only way out is through.
I was the woman who didn't know miracles really do happen.
Leading up to this week, I've been silently on tilt. My emotions have been a bit out of whack. I've been fixated on strange and insignificant things. I've been pretending to not think about the dates looming ahead of us. I've been pretending not to go back into the September/October 2017 section of photos on my phone. I've been pretending that I still adore September as much as I always have. I've been pretending I'm fine. But somehow in all that pretending, I actually faith-ed it til I made it because this week I'm oddly feeling pretty at peace.
I'm working on a post about what miscarriage teaches you which will be coming soon. But in the meantime, to the woman who recognizes herself in my reflections and experience, may you know:
Mommas-in-waiting, loss mommas, and all those in between, I see you. To those who love us through this, I see you too and thank you.