The six-week check-up. Oh joy. Six weeks after giving birth to Abigail, there I was at the doctor's office. With one question on my mind. When was it okay to get pregnant again? How soon?!?
My doctor recommended waiting three full cycles before we began trying for another baby. I think I laughed at him. "Yeah, right."
Six weeks also marked when I could go back to work. While pregnant with Abigail, I had started working for a temp agency, since waitressing was too tough on me. I had this misguided notion that I was ready to go back to work full-time. This was another of those moments when I wish I could talk to my younger-self, "Manda, are you crazy? Just because you can go back to work, doesn't mean you should! Go home & eat some cookies!" (Can you tell that I subscribe to a "feed the pain" philosophy of life? LOL)
The first job I was given was a full-time position at the main offices of a retail store that in reality had needed a temp two weeks before I showed up. Overwhelming doesn't even begin to describe it. I'm not sure I could have handled this job at any point in my life. The place was crankin', and all I could do was sit and hold back my tears. I ended up sobbing, apologizing to the manager--I just couldn't do this job. I drove to the temp office that employed me, where I completely broke down on the manager there, crying my heart out. God bless her, this woman had lost a baby ages before, and she couldn't have been sweeter to me. She told me that she would find me a part-time position--I went home and went to bed. (Can I mention here that when you lose a baby, as soon as it happens to you, suddenly there are people coming out of the woodwork who have also experienced a loss--kind of like when you find out you're pregnant and suddenly you see pregnant women everywhere, or buy a certain car and start seeing that model everywhere. Really.)
This would have been about 2 weeks before Christmas--that's right, my due date. Not only was I approaching the date when I was supposed to have given birth, but it was the holidays, and my dear Aunt Nancy was pregnant (and due in January). I remember on Christmas Day, she asked me how I was, and if I was okay with her being around. I was happy that she brought it up, and we had a nice talk. I very much, though, wanted her to have a boy. Alas, Laura was born on January 17th. I love her to pieces now, but it was a long time before I even wanted to meet her, and it's a special kind of pain when I see her playing with my daughters.
I also remember leaving the Christmas festivities early to visit Abigail's grave. Talk about your awkward moments..."Hey, where're you guys going?" It had snowed, and I remember frantically trying to find Abigail's gravestone. It is a flat stone, so it was hidden, and we hadn't been to the cemetery since the funeral...I went a bit nuts, trying to find it, and crying, thinking we wouldn't be able to. We did, though, and stood there, holding each other & crying, telling our baby Merry Christmas.
There are precious memories from this time, as well. A woman that I had gone to school with, but didn't know well at all, sent us a lovely crystal angel ornament and a beautiful note telling us how sorry she was to know that Abigail died. It was such a perfectly sweet & kind gesture. I think of her every year as I hang that ornament on our tree.
At the time, I had a pen pal. We had become very close during this time, and decided that I should go visit her. Why I thought a week-long trip away from Steve during the Christmas season, eight weeks after my child had died was a good idea, I don't know (another moment I wish I could advise my younger self on!). It was okay, but I got a head cold on the plane ride there, and I missed Steve so terribly. I didn't know then that less can definitely be more--I should have planned to visit for just a couple of days; a week was way too much. And every morning I was faithfully taking my temperature, because, yes, we were trying to become pregnant again (I promise, Eli's story starts soon!). I remember sobbing to Steve on the phone on New Year's Eve, and I couldn't get to the airport fast enough the next day. It was so nice meeting my friend in person, but I just couldn’t wait to get home.
Sometime around January 22nd, I accepted a part-time temp job. I was very honest with the office manager about the fact that Steve & I were trying to have another child, because I had the sneaking suspicion that I was pregnant. Well, to be honest, I had a difficult time not talking about Abigail. I tended to spew her story at the slightest provocation (come to think about it, I still will talk about her at the drop of the hat!), so the people at this new office learned early about the U-Haul of emotional baggage I had coming into this job. I only had to work 10-2, though, so I figured I could function as an almost-normal person for 4 hours/day. (Hormonal delusions, I'm sure! LOL)
One week later, on a Saturday evening, I took a pregnancy test. I walked out into the kitchen, where Steve was waiting. I guess I thought I had to act excited (I mean, we were actively working toward this!), so I kind of jumped up and down and said, "We're pregnant!". Then I promptly burst into tears. I was terrified.
Thank you for sharing this part of yoru life. I have never experienced the loss of a practically full term infant, but we did have a miscarriage when I was ten weeks pregnant and I can remember going through so many of the same emotions you describe. I received a very special gift like your angel from someone sweet at our church. I also babysat daily for a woman who became pregnant right after my loss and I had a hard time accepting her pregnancy with joy. Then I felt guilty for being angry at her, but now I understand that was grief expressing itself in my heart. Once her baby arrived, however I was beginning to deal with my grief much better.
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