A non-knitty, very gory, very potentially controversial post

I have a very personal, very controversial issue going on in my life right now. I haven't shared because, well, read on. You'll understand. Interestingly, now that it's all over, I'm sharing, and sharing not only the event but my very deep, personal, and raw feelings. But I don't keep a journal, and this is itching to get out of my system. It's a public blog, I know, and I risk a lot of backlash (not that I have many readers, but I am employed and we all know about the upset employers have felt about employee blogs). But it's my journal, my blog, my life, and here goes.


BTW, if you're fervently religious, don't believe in individual autonomy, and have very strong feelings about topics considered inappropriate for cocktail parties and the dinner table, please quit reading here. I'm not writing this to incite anger or controversy or anything like that. I'm just venting. A long, needed, exhaustive, and narcissistic vent.


I've been pregnant for about 9 weeks now. Of course, I've kept it under wraps because, well, these things are precarious. I have had a miscarriage before, so DH and I know a) not to broadcast these things, and b) not to get too attached, at least for awhile.

Well, sure enough, the embryo didn't make it. In fact, it died at 6 weeks (yes, you did read "9 weeks" correct above -- keep reading). My mom says that's so cold. So harsh to say DEAD. But as I tell DD about dead birds on the sidewalk or in the yard, dead cats or dogs in the street, etc, dead is dead. It's dead. And so is this.

Here's the potentially controversial part -- I'm not necessarily sad for losing this "child." In fact, this wasn't a child to me. It was the potential of a child, but it wasn't a child. I didn't have a personal, emotional relationship with this entity. I had a physical one, but one far removed from my emotions, my heart, my brain, even, at least at a conscious, interactive level.

I am sad that we aren't adding to our family ... yet. I am sad that DD doesn't have a sibling ... yet. I am sad that I won't give birth in September. But I'm not sad about this individual entity. And actually, I'm not sad to NOT be pregnant. I did not enjoy this pregnancy.

I don't take this event as a sign. I don't take it personally. I don't take it as a message that I should change my life -- take colder showers or eat less sushi or exercise more or less or stop working or quit picking my boogers (I don't really pick my boogers, but I did want to write it all the same).

No, I take this event as an event in life. Something that happens. It's just ... what it is. Nothing more, nothing less, and I am truly OK with it. My feelings aren't hurt. I'm not devastated. I'm not weeping uncontrollably. *IF* DH and I choose, we will try again and possibly add to our family. We may decide to try and it won't work. We may decide not to try. All the same, no matter the outcome, we love each other. We love our child. We're confident in ourselves, and we're not going to stop living because of this event.

(Now the gory and angry part)
What I AM upset about is that I have not passed the dead embryo. I've carried this thing for 9 weeks, and it died at 6 weeks development. My body is holding onto it for some reason, and it bothers me. It REALLY bothers me.

BUT, I don't necessarily want to intervene and remove it through medical science. I don't need to biopsy it (my dr wants to so he can identify the exact chromosomal defect). I don't need to know if there are genetic mutations in it that rendered it inviable (unviable?). I don't need to know the answers to every single event and mystery in life. And I don't believe in intervening unless it's truly an emergency. I'm skeptical of C-sections. I'm skeptical of supplements and nutritional additives. I'm skeptical of so many things in our lives that we're told we "need." I like simple. I like plain. I like natural.

But this, ugh. I'm waiting until the end of this week to see if anything will happen naturally, and then we'll consider the D&C. But I'm mad about it. Really really pissed off about it. Now I DO wonder if I were healthier -- exercised more, was leaner, was more fit, etc -- if it would pass on its own.

I'm just boiling, raging mad about it.

Next post will be happier. I promise.