Category Archives: Getting Pregnant

It Gets Easier

So, I stopped writing. Not just for this blog. But all together. Truth be told, over the past few years I wrote five different blogs and two books. Most of which existed only on my desktop. But I enjoy writing. Its my favourite hobby and has been for at least 20 years. I stopped though. I stopped painting, drawing and sketching also. Max takes up most of my time, but even my little free time I have – I stopped.

I stopped a little over year ago after my first miscarriage. It’s been a year. Fuck. It’s also been 8 months since my second miscarriage. It’s been a year since I was that Melissa that I knew my whole life. I feel like normal me is never coming back and that stresses me out every day.

Everyone says it gets easier. They’re right. But not easy enough.  Not like how it used to be.

I’m defined by those two events. I used to be defined by who I felt I was and the awesome things I did, this sarcastic funny social planning super dork with annoying organizational skills who was always relaxed with an IDGAF attitude about everything – with not a care in the world. I mean, of course I had things to care about, but nothing that defined who I was or that I focused on all that much.

These two events though, they shape what defines me now. Because I can’t escape them, nor do I want to. They happened and they’re there, and they’ll always be there. Even on the best of days, they still happened.

I can’t say the M word. I keep calling it “that baby stuff that happened. ” I’m impressed with myself for mentioning it above in this post.

It’s a weird feeling to be so happy with your life, but with this underlying horribleness  there at random times. I love my project management job, I love my real estate job, I love that I’ve gotten to spend every day all day with max for almost 3 years, I love Brian, I love my house. I love my amazing friends. But there’s always that underlying stuff that creeps up every now and then that’s like “ya you’re life is amazing and I’m so glad you’re happy but don’t forget about what happened last year”. The voice moderate resembles Kanye West as I read this back. Which will now make it a little but more palatable moving forward.

I haven’t slept since the second one. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I have the same nightmare about it every single night. And I’m exhausted.

Everyone says it gets easier. It does. But it’s not easy enough.

It’s been a year. I need to get my shit together. I’m going to start writing again. I don’t know if it’ll be the same. I’m pushing myself to write again. I don’t want to write. I’m forcing myself do it. I’ve been sick all day week (I wrote this a week ago and keep revisiting it because i’m too scared to post it.) thinking about having to post this, to finish writing it, to share it, to do anything to it. I don’t want to do it. I’m not brave enough. I don’t want people to know. My heart rate is 134bpm right now as I read this back, knowing that I have to post it soon. I’m sweating and I want to throw up.

I sound depressed. I’m not. Life is great and I’m happy all he time, I’m probably annoyingly happy. I just hate talking or thinking about this.

I carry this secret around. I’m the most open person on the planet (as proven by an old blog post open where I explain the horrifying grotesque details of childbirth.) But this… This I’ve kept a secret from everyone except a few close friends.

And that secret made me stop writing. I can’t write a blog post but not write about those events, because they’re there whether I write about them or not. So I don’t write. Because I don’t want to write about them. I don’t know why I didn’t want to. I did want to. I just also didn’t want to. I don’t want people to know. Why don’t I want people to know?  I don’t know. I don’t want the sympathy, I don’t want people to think about it when they think about me, I’m ashamed about it, it’s not anyone’s business, and I can think of a hundred more reasons.  I don’t know… I just don’t like the thought of people knowing about it.

No one talks about it. Until it happens. Then you find out it’s happened to the majority of people you know. And you feel so much better knowing that other people know what you’re going thought and that they’re fine so you’ll be fine.

And I hate that I added myself to the list of people that don’t talk about it. Because if everyone talked about it, it would be less shit. It would still be shit but a fraction of a tiny percent less. So I don’t know why I didn’t talk about it. I’m begrudgingly writing this. It’s been a year and I need to get my shit together.

They say it gets easier. And it does. I don’t cry about it anymore. That’s a lie I’m crying right now and every now and then. But typically I don’t anymore. I’m talking to friends again. I can see pregnant people again and not care. Ultrasound photos still kill me. New babies I can handle though, it’s weird.

It gets easier. It’s never the same as it was, but it gets easier. If you’re going though it, as corny as it is… you aren’t alone. And it does help to hear that.  And don’t stay silent. And it will get easier. And I KNOW you don’t want to hear that because you don’t want it to get easier because it’s horrible and unimaginable and why and how should it get easier. But in a few months you’ll remember thinking about me telling you it’ll get easier and you’ll realize all of the sudden that it did get easier. And you’ll feel relief at the tiniest little weight being lifted off even if just for a moment realizing that it isn’t as bad now as it was when it happened.  And that’s what easier is. And every day a little bit more. And some days a little bit less. And it will  be one of the things that defines you. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s here now and it happened and we continue our lives and try to find normalcy in what is now the new normal. It does get easier. It’s not the same, but it’s easier.

#BackToWriting

Idiot

So, I think i’m pregnant ALL THE TIME. All the time. Not a month goes by where i’m not thinking it. Last month it was because I was in the kitchen eating nacho chips and gummy worms and thinking they were the most delicious combination of food ever, until Brian tried it and said it was disgusting. CONVINCED. The month before, it was because I kept smelling this disgusting smell that no one else could smell every time I walked into this place ( can’t remember where it was). But NO ONE smelled it as gross, except me. CONVINCED. The month before, it was because I wanted to throw up in the car a couple times, which is exactly how I felt last time I was pregnant. CONVINCED.

I should add, I think I’m pregnant all the time because when I was pregnant with Max, I had no idea I was pregnant. It’s so embarrassing. I don’t even like talking about it because I feel like an idiot. I didn’t know I was pregnant for the longest time, like almost long enough to be on that TLC show with the white trash people and you’re all “how can you be that stupid???“… Well, I can be that stupid. Long enough where maybe, just maybe I could have delivered him in a Wal Mart, although it would have been the awesome 86 hours of labour, so I don’t now why I’d be in a Wal Mart for 86 hours, but I also don’t know why I was in labour for 86 hours either, so you never know. Every time I say 86 hours of labour, no one believes me… not even me. FML.

Anyway, in my defence, when I started telling people about how I had no idea, I found out it’s actually common to not know you’re pregnant, which is so stupid and weird, I don’t even get it. I now know at least 4 other people that didn’t know they were pregnant until even longer than I didn’t, which makes no sense… but I can’t judge because hypocrite and I get it.

I didn’t know I was pregnant because I had no signs of being pregnant at all. Not the obvious, I wasn’t sick ever, nothing. In fact, I was so sure I wasn’t pregnant, that I remember sitting in the living room really really depressed saying “I’m so depressed we aren’t pregnant yet. life sucks, I hope we don’t have to try for years and it doesn’t work and bah blah blah self pity. Let’s go to Vegas to chill out and help us cheer up for a bit”, and so we did. and I got really drunk there. there are several pictures of me with several Mojitos, or a bottle of wine. I hope Max enjoyed it. That’s probably why he can’t crawl yet because yeah, I was already pregnant when I was in Vegas lamenting that I “couldn’t get pregnant“.

How are you supposed to know you’re pregnant if you have no symptoms of it?? It’s not even my fault! I remember three distinct things that happened:
1.) IT WAS SO HOT. It was so fucking hot that summer, or so I thought. I kept telling Brian “UGH this is the HOTTEST SUMMER EVER!!” and he was like “yeah it’s really bad”.
2.) I kept getting car sick. I used to get car sick sometimes in traffic, so it wasn’t new. But it was just happening more and more, so I kept telling Brian to chill out on the stop and go in traffic and just coast, or else I was gonna throw up in the car.
3.) I kept telling Brian that my work had this disgusting smell. and he said “OH YEAH I KNOW! I used to work in that building, it smells all wet, right?” and I’m like “YEAH! It makes me wanna throw up everytime i walk in there!”. He’s like “yeah it’s gross.” STFU.

In conclusion, I fully 100% blame Brian for me not knowing I was pregnant. This is what happens when you don’t listen to your wife and you just agree with them all the time. It wasn’t the fucking hottest summer, because I had the AC on in the winter still that year, so I guess it was also the hottest winter? NO! That building didn’t even remotely smell like anything at all!! I was there again last week, it was fine. It smelled of work, commuting, sadness, with a hint of cupcakes. And there was no stupid stop and go anything in traffic, I was just preggo nauseous.

Anyway, now I’m paranoid all the time that I’m pregnant… and now Brian propagates it by doing the opposite of what he did when I actually was pregnant. Like last week at midnight I’m like “I want chicken wings, can you go get us some?? and he’s like “no, you’re pregnant… so i’m only getting them if I also come back with a pregnancy test for you”.

There’s no way to win.

Side: I finally did clue in when I was like “Wait, what month is this? why am I SO CAR SICK all the time? why don’t my jeans fit all of the sudden? Why did I really really really need that blueberry pie and drove 60km to go find one only to find out they didn’t have blueberry so drove another 40km in the pouring rain to go find another place that might also have blueberry pie because I really fucking needed it?” #Lightbulb #Idiot

My Friends Are Stupid, But I Love Them Anyway

You know what I’m tired of hearing? “It’s so weird that you had a baby”. Like, just drop it. We didn’t tell anyone we were trying, except for a couple select people (now don’t you feel special), so then we got pregnant and everyone was like “OMG OMG OMG” (which was also my reaction cuz literally I was like “wait, that actually works?!?”). I remember walking down the hall in my office when I used to have a job and make money and manage fancy expensive projects that allowed me to talk to adults and not sing all day while I chased poop down the hallway, and this one chick was like “hey I just heard! Congrats!” and I”m like “Thanks! We’re so excited” and her response was “That’s great! It’s cool that you can still be excited about an accident! Because if it were me in your shoes, I’d be really freaked out.”

So then I realized that I think everyone thinks this is an accident, because that wasn’t the first time I heard that that week. Unless there was some weird rumour going around, which I wouldn’t put passed any one of my crazy friends.

I feel like you either tell people you’re trying, then everyone looks at your stomach constantly and asks “So???” then you get really annoyed, really quickly and want to punch them and cry, because you aren’t pregnant, and why aren’t you pregnant?!!?! #stressful and on top of it you think people think you’re fat. Or you don’t tell anyone anything because, guess what… not really your business, but then everyone thinks your awesome baby is an accident.

I remember saying to someone else (another friend on the accident side) I can totally prove he’s not an accident!! And then proceeding to show them a MSN Messenger conversation that I had with Brian, where we were like “ok I think if we try today it’ll work”. HAHAH I’m an idiot. Yes, we decided it on MSN. Yes, I was googling “how to get pregnant” CONSTANTLY, because I’m organized and like to research things, and I had boat loads of time on my hands, which I’ll never have again, but I’m okay with that. And I was obviously obsessed with having a baby because I was 30 and that’s what happens, and I hate that it happens, but hormones aren’t my fault.

Long story short, he isn’t an accident. And, people… don’t stare at someone’s stomach if you think they are trying, it makes them self conscious, unless they’re skinny, do whatever you want to them.

I realize this isn’t a mommy blog so much as a stupid things Melissa does blog, and it’s getting more and more embarrassing by the post.

**EDIT**
You know, re-reading this, I think maybe this isn’t correct, maybe people don’t just think two things… maybe I just have a bunch of idiot friends!?! Did this happen to anyone else?? Are my friends just stupid?? ughhh.