So I’ve been MIA for a while. I’m finding it harder and harder to get up enough enthusiasm these days to blog. As life in the real world becomes more complicated, I tend to hide from all worlds.
I was in Spain and had a blast with my little sister. I found that my German inproved greatly when trying to speak my university Spanish with the Catalans who speak Catalan. In fact, my German has never been better than the morning I woke up to one of Mim’s roommates slamming the pots and pans in the kitchen at 6 am. The only Spanish I could come up with was “Dos cervesas, por favor.” Without even trying, I spoke in perfect German. I probably could have discussed Goethe and his influence on Germany and the world at that moment.
I was also in Barcelona when I figured out I was pregnant. It started with the weirdest side effect, fear of heights.
I was with Gaudi on a Thursday evening, up on the roof of Casa Mila in awe of his talent and creativity when I noticed I was a little woozy. Woozy in the “afraid of heights” kind of woozy. It wasn’t a big deal, just that I wasn’t very comfortable up on the fenced in roof top as I would normally be. The panic attack up on top of La Sagrada Familia is what allowed me to see that Jeff and Mim weren’t in fact being big babies and should just put on their big girl pants and suck it up when faced with a castle wall or open floor plan in a hotel. I could not stop shaking.
I’m not afraid of heights. At all. Never have been. I have done very stupid things in very high places because I’ve never seen height as a factor. The wondertwins are,not me.
I tried not to think about being pregnant, but I kept getting smacked with it. From the gorgeous rack I quickly developed and that I had not seen since I was 19 to my liebhaber, coffee, making me horribly sick to extreme tiredness to just “knowing”. However, I was not going to think about it as a real possibility until the blood test. I refused to even take a pee test because it would jinx it.
I flew home on a Thursday night and had a blood test on Friday. Confirmed pregnancy.
I miscarried late last week.
This is where I have to thank Carol.
I had a total freak out a few days after the blood test. A freak out of the “What the hell am I doing being pregnant or even thinking I should have a kid. I’m too selfish, I’m too old, I’m too crazy, I’ll never get to Tel Aviv, let me re-evaluate my marriage” type of freakout.
I woke Sparky up at 4 am one morning to share the freakout. He, strangely, was not freaking out. Sparky was happy, elated, glowing and happy.
Carol talked me off that ledge. I really honestly do not know what I would have done without Carol. I was so out of my head about making a huge mistake and then hating myself for even thinking that because I’ve wanted kids for so long and I’m going to extraordinary lengths to have kids. I felt that I had no right at all to feel that way, especially since my risk of miscarriage was/is so incredibly high. How dare I have those feelings?
Carol had me skype her, at 2 am her time on her anniversary, to talk to me. And I felt so much better after. I had no idea that those could be normal feelings. I didn’t even think about hormones. She helped me get perspective. And look at her kids. How do I make sure I have kids like that and not kids like Sparky and I? We’ve complained about shitty kids so often we are sure to have them.
Then I miscarried.
I have a lot of feelings about it, but none of the guilt I thought I would have and I have Carol to thank for that.
And that freakout and that miscarriage gave me solid foundation of knowledge that perhaps I won’t get to Tel Aviv, but I do want a family and now that I have been pregnant, have had the freakout and then miscarried, I’m thankful. I can make these decisions with that unique perspective and hopefully when I’m pregnant again, the freakout can be supplemented with the real knowledge that this is what I want.