Happy Annunciation Wednesday. Today, 9 months exactly prior to Christmas, we celebrate the Feast of the Annunciation. At Mass, this morning, the readings culminated with the passage in Luke where the angel Gabriel visits Mary and tells her the unbelievable news: you're having a baby.
Sometimes that sentiment feels like unbelievable news to me. "You're pregnant." Really? "You're having a baby." Are you sure? Instead of a nice, toasty oven, I feel like a crematorium at times. My babies die.
It's supposed to be a happy day, and, I'm struggling. Peter, the other day, in one of those moments of "Of course, we're pregnant and everything will be okay" moments, said to me, "Look, you'll get to be pregnant during the growing season of Jesus." (Okay, so he didnt use the term "growing season", I cant remember exactly what he said, but you get the gist of it.) Part of me thought "Hey, cool... " but the other thought "Yeah, but Mary didn't lose her baby." I don't want to think that. I dont want to feel like I'm walking towards some inevitable future. But what can I base my happy ending on?
When I was pregnant, someone told me that lightening doesn't strike twice in the same place. Funny. Tell that to my 2nd and 3rd miscarriage. Or to my 2nd and 3rd children. I know they were trying to be reassuring... To tell me that, because I'd already had more grief in a day than people should have in a lifetime, that I was fine... That there was smooth sailing from here on out.
Why such a foul mood, you ask? I've been crampy, both last night and today. Even though Fertility Friend has me ranked at 59 (out of 100) on their pregnancy estimator (I'm also extremely sick to my stomach- yay!), I can't get the dull ache on my left side or the uncomfortable cramping from last night's nap out of my head.
I do have some other good signs. More vivid dreams, tender nasal cavaties, running to the bathroom, and a tender tummy and tatas all point to "GO!" but it's the cramping and the irritability and the mood swings that keep me looking at the giant "NO!" sign in the distance. It's funny: I was better during the first part of the 2ww, but as we move towards the end, the stress is getting so much worse. T-2 days and I'm ready to pull my hair out.
So, hopefully 11dpo will move quickly through the day (I do have an afternoon meeting, so that should help) and I'll be able to work on stuff in the afternoon that puts me in a better (mental) spot.
I really hope that I identify with Mary this year in a special way, and not just because she knows how I feel to be an orphaned parent.