Tristine's Triumph -- Entry Three

Read All of Tristine's Triumph

September 30

Well, I could not keep the news to myself for long. I had to tell my husband. He deserves to know and I want him to go to my appointments with me. I cannot face these first few weeks without him.

Ahhh.... what a comfort it is to not have to hide this from him. But, I have sworn him to secrecy. I do not want anyone to know about this for fear I will miscarry again. I do not want to have to "un-tell" everyone. And I did pretty well at coping with the last miscarriage in silence. Granted, I was only 5 weeks and had known I was pregnant for 5 days, I think having the Internet, as my outlet has been good for me.

I won't have to deal with my family making ignorant but hurtful statements. I won't have to hear all the "Congratulations." Who here is celebrating? Not me. I won't celebrate until I hold a newborn in my arms and I can walk away from the hospital with my own bundle of joy. I have no reason to celebrate until I am awake at 3am feeding my precious earth angel. This reminds me of a passage I read in The Infertility Book:

     "As I write this I am pregnant for a fifth time. My first four pregnancies ended in miscarriage. I have told only a few people. I know that I cannot bear to hear people say, "Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations!" It is impossible to convey to most of them that no, it is not wonderful, at least not at this point; that being pregnant is frightening and anxiety-producing and a situation in which daily life feels like walking on eggs.
     My husband and I rarely talk about this baby. We don’t really allow ourselves to think of "it" as a baby yet. I am superstitious and in a state of emotional neutrality. I am merely waiting. It is not a pregnancy celebrated and enjoyed.
     Yet way deep down, there is a very secret, very private place that all the self-protective, insulation behavior does not seem to penetrate. Tiny, light-filled fantasy images scamper out for whole moments at a time before they are ruthlessly squelched and shoved back inside the dark recesses of safety. "Will she have a funny, lopsided smile like her father’s? Will I nurse him here by this window?"
     Hope is always there in little glimmers, impossible to deny. Yet, like a general marshaling huge armies, I fortify against those feelings. When, and only when, I hold that baby in my arms, will I allow myself to fell that pent-up explosion of joy."

My husband is my source of support. I am so lucky to have such a wonderful man in my life. He has truly been my only reason to live after enduring all the losses.