The loss of a pregnancy never had

Ever since Hawk went to daycare I've felt like something was missing.

These days, the strangest things trigger my sense of loss: a trip to my old grocery store, walking by the fish tank in the mall on a late mid-week morning, meeting a friend for a coffee downtown.

I tell myself that all of this would be happening regardless of my marital status, but it just somehow adds insult to injury.

I see mothers with their children cooing at them and carrying on conversations in that lilting singsong that mothers have.  I see them piling into their cars with arms laden with groceries or shopping bags seemingly content with their position in life and I think, "That was me."

What paralyzes me the most, though, are pregnant mothers.  Their bellies swelling with a sibling, their little ones expectant big brothers and sisters, their families growing.

Before Rooster and I admitted that we were falling apart we tried to get pregnant.  For roughly 18 months we tried.  I never said anything on this blog because I didn't want to jinx it. 

The first time we tried to get pregnant it worked in the first week and I naively I figured it'd be just as easy for round two.  After 3 months and no pregnancy, I started charting my ovulation.  After 10 I went to a fertility specialist who wanted to immediately put me on clomid.  I balked since I checked out 100% and didn't want to generate twins just because I was desperate to have a baby.  Instead, Rooster got checked out and we discovered things were a bit amiss.  We tried IUI, but that didn't work, either.

Meanwhile, I was raising Hawk, spending afternoons in the park and planning weekly meals; trying valiantly to deny the state of things between me and my kind, loving partner.

Eventually, Rooster and I had to look at each other and be real.  There were times when I hoped I'd get pregnant just so I could give Hawk a sibling, marriage crumbling be damned, I'd make it work!  It was that important to me. 

I myself am a big sister and Larry (my sister - and no, that's not her real name!) is an inspiration, a support, and a friend I can't imagine my life without.  I used to joke with Rooster that I didn't want Hawk to have to deal with our crazy asses alone for his entire life.  I wasn't really joking.  We're going to be a motherfucking handful.

And now my sister is trying for her second baby.  I have blogging friends who are on their second pregnancies, too, and with each joyful sharing of news I feel punched in the gut.  Chances are extremely slim that I will ever feel a life growing inside of me again, a babe at my breast, Hawk as a big brother.

I don't agree that "It could happen," because I won't let it.  I don't want to argue my rationale, but suffice it to say, I'm 35 years old and I'm trying to reboot my career; I don't want a huge age gap between my children; I don't want two daddies, two schedules, two disjointed lives.

I realized I was holding my breath for months in hopes that no one I knew would get pregnant again just so I wouldn't feel my own loss.  Selfish, I know, and I'm ashamed to admit it, but there it is.

I feel nothing but love and joy for all my pregnant blogging friends (Dionna, Lauren, Allison, and Arwyn), those women whom I know in real life (at least 4 I can think of off the top of my head), and those who are trying, but it also shines a spotlight on my own void -- something I need to just work through, I know, but it's there nonetheless.

For months, before I told anyone about my relationship, I couldn't speak about a second pregnancy without tearing up.  It was the one topic I tried to avoid with all my friends and family as I told them what was happening to me and Rooster.  I can talk about it now without feeling overly emotional about it, but if I think on it long enough, the tears will come - oh, they most definitely will!

I feel like I've let Hawk down.  Robbed him of the bond only a sibling can provide.  I grill any only-child I come across, "Did you wish you had siblings?" "How do you feel about your parents' aging?" "Were you lonely growing up?"  For the most part, you only-children out there are pretty well adjusted folks with an air of sophistication about you I've always admired and coveted.  You're not spoiled, weird, reclusive assholes!! Well done! haha

I know that a sibling doesn't guarantee happiness - lots of siblings are freakin' jackasses - but based on my own experience it's been a breathtaking journey of love and life to have a baby sister.  I feel things for her I don't for anyone else on the planet and I wanted that for Hawk like I want air to breathe.

But it's over. 

That window is closed and I'm walking past it with as sure a stride as I can muster.  I tell myself I'll love my bright, Star-Wars-obsessed little guy all the more for it; try not to think about horrendous what-ifs and I'll not laugh at "The dingo ate my baby!" jokes, because, really, it's not that fucking funny to have a dingo eat your baby.  Come on! 

I've said before that I never thought my life would be linear, so I need to embrace that belief and be happy with what I've been given which is one little boy who is sunshine and rainbows, and a few years spent with his wonderful father.  It's really not all that bad.  Maybe, if I'm lucky, my future holds step-children, or even just another's children, and I can grow my family in a different direction.  I'm down with that.  Definitely.