It started around bedtime April 30th. I didn’t tell Nick. I went to bed and tossed and turned all night, occasionally getting up to use the little girl’s room and return to bed with a clean towel. I had very bad, painful, (depressing) cramps. Worse than any I had ever had but not as bad as labor with Madi. I knew.
When I got up in the morning I used the potty for what was the most significant time. I then cried and cried in the shower. I finally came out to the living room and told Nick. He hugged and hugged me. I hugged and hugged back. We were sad, disappointed, upset, lonely, but yet together, regretful.
It was Tuesday, May 1st.
I called my boss and told her I needed a sick day. I told her I would call later to check in with her and maybe explain then. She took that as sufficient. We hadn’t yet told anyone so there was no need to get into it now.
Madi didn’t know anything either so there was no need to do any explaining. She was little, only 2.5. Two weeks later was Mother’s Day and we had planned to tell the grandparents as a Mother’s Day Surprise. I had even ordered little tee shirts for Madi that read “I have a secret” on the front. On the back, they spilled the beans. That same week the little tee shirts arrived in the mail. We were in the process of moving so I shoved the unopened package into the bottom of a moving box.
I called my Mom just before lunch time. The only thing I was able to make clear to her through my crying (which spontaneously erupted as soon as she answered) was “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I was pregnant.” Mom drove to my house a few minutes later and just sat and hugged me. She was so sad, too. She didn’t say much. Neither did I.
I called my Dad later in the afternoon. I asked if he could stop by the house after he picked up Mary from school. He asked why and I wouldn’t tell him. When they arrived and saw that I had been crying they were immediately concerned and confused. Nick told them we had been pregnant. They asked a lot of questions and worried that I had been stressed too much or doing too much. They were just concerned.
I had to make several calls to the doctor’s office. On the original call, the nurse repeatedly snapped back at my vagueness in my wording with “well, how do you know?” I know. That wasn’t enough for her and she couldn’t believe I wouldn’t have gone to the ER. Said I wouldn’t actually know myself and that I needed a doctor to confirm it. She was such a rude nurse. I get that she may deal with this daily, but I don’t.
Blood tests confirmed what we had known and test after test we had to insure the markers returned to normal. If not, we would have to travel a different path.
That wasn’t yesterday. That was five years ago.