Backsliding; or, Having the Hard Conversations

Last night was rough. Very, very rough.

It started with the revelation that Lawyer Guy's 26-year-old cousin is pregnant with her third unplanned pregnancy. It ended with an hour-and-a-half of tears and soul searching in bed.

Despite my best intentions, pregnancy announcements knock me on my ass. I recover eventually (even quickly) and suck it up and smile and muddle through. But the first day I hear about a new baby on the way? Let's just say "poise" is not a word I'm worthy of in those moments.

This announcement was especially bad for several reasons: I'm deep in an increasingly pessimistic two week wait; I'm the only one of the 4 married cousins on that side of Lawyer Guy's family to not have a viable pregnancy in the past year; everyone in his family kept this a secret from me for over a month.

Yup, my husband has known about this since before we left for our cruise on January 14th. He's so worried about my mental fragility, he hid this from me for six weeks. And the worst part is, he's right. Learning about it sent me into a tailspin.

And about that mental fragility-- there's been a major backslide this week. I underestimated the psychic stress of getting back into trying to conceive after a miscarriage. My longing to get pregnant is even greater than it was before (if you can believe that) because it feels like the only thing that will make my miscarriage bearable. The waiting has worn me down over the past six days. I'm increasingly in despair (that's not an overstatement), increasingly convinced that this cycle is hopeless, increasingly convinced that I'll see red at the end of this.

So I've been moping a lot and crying a lot and generally in a funk. But I know that this is only the first cycle and that while getting my period sucks, I'll come out optimistic and hopeful (even if scared) the next cycle, and the next, and the next.

But for my husband, this backslide has been very upsetting. And last night, as he came into the bedroom, he told me that "I don't seem happy in our marriage."

Cue copious tears. Our marriage is the only thing that makes me happy. Our marriage is the rock that holds me up. So we talked and talked, and cried and cried and both said things we've been thinking for a long time. Ultimately, he said he's been scared by something I said in the days following the miscarriage: that I don't think I'll ever be happy until I'm pregnant again.

And while I don't feel exactly that way three months later (I'm happy sometimes, even frequently), I know there's a sadness in my heart that won't be erased until I have a baby.

And maybe not even totally then. Maybe I'll always have this sadness, but counterbalanced by joy.

We didn't come to any resolutions, but it was important (even though stressful) to share these feelings with each other.

I just hope the failed cycles are more tolerable with time.