Finding Peace

Finding Peace

Okay I’m going to honest here for a minute, very honest. I find myself eye rolling the month of October every year. October is home to many awareness campaigns. Breast Cancer Awareness, Dyslexia Awareness, Mental Health Awareness to name a few. It also happens to be Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. Every year, for 4 years it is also the month I had my miscarriage. Yes that’s right, Gunnar, my very unexpected miracle is also rainbow baby. I started this blog in May of 2015 and by October 2015 I started writing this post, to scared to publish it I just kept adding to it. Every year I would add something new, year one I wrote a paragraph or two about Sam and I. Year two was dedicated to what happened. Every now and then when I would think about it, I’d add little bits here and there. It is against my better judgement that I am not publishing it. After three years of blogging I’m allowing myself to be a little more intimate and honest about how G came to be!

I had just moved back to my hometown from Philadelphia, after living and working there for almost 2 years.  I was living at in childhood town, with my mom, trying and failing to save and figure out what my next step would be. Half the time I was thinking, why did we come back here? Was this the right move? Why did I move from the exciting, crazy, food filled city of Philadelphia to live back in the burbs  with my mom? I had loved Philadelphia and was missing it quite a bit, but I knew that there was a reason for me to come back home. Before I made the decision to leave, it was like I could hear the universe whispering to me “Meg, honey, it’s time to blow this popsicle stand.” As much as I tried to ignore her, she wasn’t backing down. I guess you could say, the universe had a plans and I had to just follow along.

At the same time there was another factor in this crazy mess that was my life. My boyfriend. Sam and I were in a good place but we still had some things to figure out. For one, he was living in those very suburbs I was nervous to move home to and in between jobs. I was floating, fresh out of college, unemployed and trying to figure out my next move. We discussed our options and I decided to make the move back to the burbs and start building our lives together. Everything was laid out perfectly in my mind.

The Plan.

We would focus on our next career move. Eventually saving up enough to rent a townhouse.  We would kill it financially. Get the most adorable St.Bernard puppy. Travel all the time. He would eventually propose on the beach in the British Virgin Islands. We’d get married on island.  Our first home would be a California inspired bungalow. Our first year of marriage, would be straight bliss. Then of course, we’d have the talk, the “family” talk.  We’d start trying almost immediately. I’d learn that I was expecting. We’d celebrate with a moonlight dinner and then plan an adorable way to share the news with our family and friends. We’d welcome 3 more after our first (all girls of course). We’d be a family of 6. So happy. So content. So perfect. This is the “perfect” plan, I thought. This is how things will go….Oh how naïve.

About a month after I moved home the universe decided to add a twist to my perfect little plan. I was pregnant and then just like that, I wasn’t. Before I could even get used to the idea it was taken away from me. I often find myself going back to that morning like it was yesterday. I never really understood that feeling of remembering something so vividly until that day. My boyfriend (now husband) needed a ride to work and naturally I offered, I was already sleeping over so why not. I dropped him off gave him a kiss and sent him on his way. At this point I was still jobless and searching so I did what any early 20 something would do and headed to the Target. It was the beginning of October so naturally I wanted to take a look at the latest Halloween decor, ready and willing to give them my money. I walked through the doors and suddenly I was doubled over in pain. Sharp burning pain was just beaming in my abdomen. I rushed to the bathroom scared and confused not knowing what was going on. I went to the bathroom and well I don’t think you need me to tell you the rest. It would be 2 years before I’d go back to that Target.

I was living at home, not married with not even a solid starting point to my plans, I was trying to figure out my life and get my career together. And still at the same time, even though I knew all the obstacles that lay in front of me, cried for that baby. I cried for what could have been. Were you a boy or a girl? Did you have my straight hair or your daddy’s curls. Were you stubborn like your mama, or mild and calm like Sammy? I felt guilt, how could I’ve not known I was pregnant? I felt embarrassed, what would my friends and family think? I decided to keep it all to myself and tell no one. I told Sam but even when I did I brushed it off like I wasn’t sure, but I was most definitely sure. Anyone who has suffered a miscarriage knows. You know exactly what’s happening and it’s one of the most helpless feelings you’ll ever experience.

I decide to keep moving, I tried to look on the bright side and kept telling myself that our plans were still in motion. Make myself believe that this was just more motivation to get our lives in order. But all I really did was take two steps forward and 5 giant steps back. I would go out every night and drink, a lot…a whole lot. On top of it all, not talking about it tore a big whole in our relationship. It wasn’t his fault, I wasn’t always so willing to communicate like I am today. I couldn’t get over it, and I couldn’t talk about it no matter how hard I tried. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to be this upset. Most women who experience are actually trying to get pregnant. I didn’t even know I was expecting until that day. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to be upset, I didn’t deserve to mourn that lose. So I forced it down, we finally ended our relationship, and there went my beautiful plan.

A month went by and in that month, we swayed back and forth from bickering like toddlers to trying to work it. When finally out of no where and with absolutely zero warning, the universe decided she wasn’t quite done with us just yet.

We. were. pregnant…again.

Yea let that sink in, it’s still sinking in for me and he is almost four. Both Sam and I, were overwhelmed. I felt like I was on a rainbow-colored tilt-a-whirl. How could this be happening? What are people going to think?  I had a plan and this wasn’t apart of it, none of this was apart of the plan. But the universe is a tricky lady.  Then my mind started wandering in the other direction. Was I ready for this chapter of my life?  Was this another cruel joke at my expense? Am I getting my hopes up even thinking I could be a mom soon?

A few days later Sam and I agreed we would go to a clinic and discuss our options. I remember sitting in the waiting room surrounded by women years younger than I. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder if they were here for the same reason. It was really hard but all those feelings and thoughts I had forced down so many months prior started following through my mind. I knew the only thing to do was trust the process. I had to trust that the universe had a plan for me, for us. A path designed exclusively for Meghan, whether it was with Sam or not there was a plan for us. A path, which went in a certain order and with reasons I didn’t always understand. And right then and there when I was having this life changing revaluation my now husband looked at me, with a look I’ll never forget. Then he stood up and said, “Well Meg, if we are going to do this I just want you to know I’ll be coming with you to pregnancy yoga class with you and you’ll have to deal with me doing things like this.” And proceeded to do the worst version of downward dog I had ever seen in my life. It was at that moment we got up and ran for the car determined to get out of there as quickly as we had gone in.

I don’t know how and why things turned out they way they did. Maybe it was to challenge me not to worry so much? Or maybe I  needed to get out of my head and start living. Either way I needed to accept that this was my reality. Once I began embracing it all, everything started to fall into place. 4 years later, I look back at all that has changed in my life. I can’t help but think how incredibly blessed we are to have our growing family. At the same time,  I also see that much of my plan has changed, Marriage, a home and children have all happened. But there’s still so much more that hasn’t happened YET.  And I’m ok with it. Is my life the definition of perfect ? Well for me, it’s perfect. Do I think about our first child?  Every. single. day. I won’t dare forget about him or her, I know you are where you need to be but you are still in my thoughts and prayers. I understand that now, I understand that you were sent to move us in a direction that otherwise would have probably taken too long. I am exactly where I need to be and I am ok with it.  I am trusting the process. I’m open to what the universe has in store for Sam and I. Now I am confident that the universe will never throw something our way that we can’t handle. Sometimes pretty amazing things come out of unexpected miracles.

 

 



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