It’s been a tumultuous week, to say the least. It began with hope, contained a brilliant disappointment, and ended with a graduation commencement. Somewhere in all of that, the fog lifted and descended, then lifted again.

I’ll start with hope; I’m just going to put it all right out there. On Monday, I took a pregnancy test. A faintly positive line was just barely there, but both Chris and I saw it. I took two the next day, they were so light, but they were there. By Wednesday afternoon it seemed apparent that the lines had progressively gotten lighter. By Thursday morning, I could discern nothing when I looked for the second pink line. Nothing. There was some spotting throughout the day, and by late afternoon, my cycle restarted in all of its scarlet glory. And with it, my hope went out the window. I had two days of believing that maybe, just maybe, the tide had turned in our favor, only to find that no, it wasn’t to be. I am not surprised. The whole time, I was simply too afraid to completely embrace it; I was just waiting for it to disappear. And, it did. No baby, not now. I talked with the nurse at my doctor’s office after the gentle encouragement of my friend Beth, and she confirmed that it possibly could have been a chemical pregnancy, or blighted ovum. Disappointment. I went to have some bloodwork done on Friday just to follow up to see if there really was any HCG in my system; I’ll find out tomorrow if there was anything there. I didn’t know that walking into the lab at the medical center was going to be so triggering, but it was. I could remember everything from the last time I was there at that particular lab to take my glucose test when I was pregnant with Lucy, and it was almost more than I could bear. I turned into an anxiety-ridden, bumbling idiot at check-in and then barely made it out the door to leave before bursting into tears. It was terrible.

There were a few happy things this week at least. Chris and I gave away our first Lucy Rose’s Light Scholarship on Friday night to a very deserving senior in our school. The applicants for the scholarship each wrote an essay with the topic “How I Intend to Share My Light With the World”. It was a tough choice, but I believe we made the right one. Chris and I both felt very emotional, but it was a wonderful thing to experience, and we’re both thankful for the opportunity to share Lucy’s light with the world. It means a lot to us.

Today, we wished our graduating seniors farewell and good luck at their commencement ceremony. It was bittersweet this year. While sitting in the little white faculty chairs, listening to speeches, watching the graduation slideshow, and smiling proudly at our students, I couldn’t help but think back to last year’s ceremony, when I was about 7 months along with Lucy imagining all of the amazing things the summer was supposed to bring, and it made my heart ache. I remember thinking that we’d better get ready for an incredible, fast, beautiful ride, because one day, just a mere blink from that day, we’d be getting ready to send our own child out into the world at her graduation ceremony. As I watched the slideshow today that showcased the baby and kid photos that transformed into the Senior portraits of our students, my lips started to quiver and tears spilled out of my eyes. “We’ll never have this with our sweet girl,” I thought as I tried to control my emotions. This, and so many other countless things. It will always hurt.

It also hurt a bit today that we were verbally accosted by the parent of a long-ago former student that Chris had about our loss. Each year at graduation, a church group stands outside the entrance of the high school and hands out bottles of water to the people attending the ceremony. It’s always a kind, appreciated gesture. This year, this person that I don’t know (the parent of the former student), who was a part of that group,comes up, puts her arm around me, and begins to tell me in a very heartfelt way that they have been praying for us so much and we have been in their thoughts. While I don’t always like hugs from strangers, I understood that she was just trying to be kind. However, a few minutes later, as staff members were lining up in the hallway for the graduation processional, this woman finds Chris and I again, and starts talking to me. Chris was conversing with another of our colleagues and so he didn’t really notice right away. She said she didn’t mean to cause hurt by bringing our loss up. I told her that she need not worry about that, we are always thinking about it, and it is nice that others acknowledge that sometimes. She continues to say how sorry she is and how she hopes we get our heart’s desire now. I agreed, while thinking, “We did have our heart’s desire, and she was taken from us”. THEN, she proceeds to say, while jokingly gesturing at Chris, “…because he’s not getting any younger!” By then, Chris was paying attention, and she said to him, “Oh guess what? Our son Adam just had his first baby!” Chris’s eyes turned to ice and he said to her, “You know, it’s just not the time or the place for this. Sorry, but it’s just too much.” She sputtered out a few unintelligible words to me and hurried away. Chris was fuming and our colleague/friend asked what was up, and Chris explained how ridiculous it was that in the same breath of giving condolences to us for our child that died, she was also sharing the bubbly happy news of being a brand new grandmother. Maybe not everyone understands why that might be tough for loss parents, and maybe they never will, but it just is. Always, there are little things like this that just amplify the pain even more.

Yesterday, I had another session with Julie, my therapist. The fog lifted just a little again. One thing that I have noticed over these past months is that it’s been nearly impossible for me to see much more than the week in front of me, never more than that. I guess that’s part of survival in the fog of grief… just seeing the task at hand, making through that, and then taking the next necessary step. When I thought there was something magical to look forward to for a couple of days, for the first time in nearly ten months, I thought I could see ahead into the future, toward something bigger, something happier. It felt like the fog had lifted just a bit. Then with the disappointment came the descent of the fog once again. It was like having a very pleasant dream, only to be awakened and jolted back to reality. I’ve felt so irritable these past few days, and I think it’s because I am simply tired of it. Tired of feeling the weight of grief, tired of missing my baby so much (not that I will ever stop– I won’t because I love her so much… just wish she were HERE, and tired of knowing she never can be), tired of waiting each month to find out if we are pregnant and then being disappointed… tired of work, tired of being “Mrs. O., tired of the clutter in our house, tired of feeling like I’m 100 years old, just tired. I’ve been putting my life on hold waiting to get pregnant again. I’ve come to realize that at some point it will probably just happen, but I can’t keep allowing my entire existence to waiting for it to happen. I also understand that I have to, at some point, begin moving forward. Not necessarily move on, but move forward.
Something has to change because I have become so weary of the way things are right now, and I am the only one who can make things change. With summer break five days away, I am finally able to see a little further past the current week in front of me. I can take a break from being Mrs.O. the teacher, and just be Jess for a while. I have become lost in this grief and am only treading water because of the demands of my job. I did get a glimpse during those two hopeful days earlier this week of what a rainbow baby could potentially do… another baby will not fix everything, but it will give us happy things to experience and look forward to. Life can be better. But, it is up to me to make life better in the mean time, however I can. So, as summer inches closer, with only one hard week of work left before a break, I am tying to create some feasible goals and projects for myself. I will get to a better place, but only if I start making it happen. It feels tough right now, but I have to keep trying to move forward. I will keep doing it, one step at a time, and I will keep looking for signs of Lucy and her purpose… I won’t “move on”, just forward. I just wish it weren’t so hard.