Announcements
I got my first period after my loss in late December. It had been 43 days since I lost my second baby. The TTC (trying to conceive) community warns the holidays are stressful for women who are experiencing infertility. I think many dream about gifts under their tree for a baby or a special gift in the form of a positive pregnancy test. Last December, I had hoped and willed a late period because it was my last chance before IVF to get pregnant on my own. I thought I could make a gift under the tree; I thought I deserved that. It didn’t happen.
On Sunday, after wrapping gifts all day while listening to Bing Crosby, I sat on my couch with my dog and opened Instagram. It started with a pregnancy announcement from a college acquaintance and his fiancé. I had known a few months ago at a birthday through my sense, my intuition that she was pregnant. She was dressed in a bulky Halloween costume and drank water. I told my best friend and Danny. This post confirmed what I knew but it stung deeply. Another couple who wasn’t us having a baby. I felt heavy in my heart. If I had stayed pregnant the first time, I’d be in my last trimester. If I had stayed pregnant the second time, I, too, would be announcing that Danny and I were welcoming a child. I took a deep breath. I started to choose me by moving the application off of my homepage in a folder three swipes back. I thought this could curb my habit. I spent the remaining 23 hours avoiding that part of my phone.
My period brought a saline sonogram to ensure there wasn’t any scarring or tissue from my D&C. I went on Tuesday morning, December 23rd. The procedure is crampy and wet. They found some extra tissue. I walked to the garage to get the car where Danny had parked. As we drove back to Queens, I opened Instagram. The first post was a onesie on a pink sheet with a bow and ultrasound picture. A girl I went to college with who got married last year was announcing her pregnancy. Two announcements in less than 72 hours. It was starting to feel like the 12 Days of Babies. I immediately closed the app. Why did I look? I should have kept my cleanse going. As my insecurities mounted, I shifted my thinking to me and the procedure. Of course, they found extra tissue. Would this mean another delayed IVF cycle? Would anyone even share answers with me before Christmas? I couldn’t just close an app to stop thinking about this. I picked at my cuticles and we drove through mid-day traffic towards home so I could get back to work.
I stayed away for another 24 hours. Christmas Eve came and we celebrated with Peruvian takeout and Danny’s family. Like all family gatherings, there was a lull in conversation, I excused myself to the bathroom and opened Instagram. I knew there would be holiday pictures and I hoped to see my friends celebrating. Instead, I saw an influencer taking a selfie in the bathroom with her shirt lifted showing her 3 month belly. I’d be 3.5 months if I was still pregnant. She was pregnant with her second child. I washed my hands and poured myself another glass of red wine. I opened my email. My doctor shared the extra tissue was insignificant. The nurse said to monitor my ovulation with strips to track my cycle. A week before my period in January I’d start estrogen.
We left the apartment at 7:30 am on Christmas morning to drive to New Hampshire to be with my family. We went through the Starbucks drive through and I sat in the back with Oscar, my puppy, so he would be comfortable on the five hour drive. We had a good playlist and I closed my eyes. I woke up in the middle of the Connecticut stretch. This time it was a teacher that I had worked with years ago, pregnant with her second child. The post right below was another influencer showing off her belly at 4 months with her third child after posting three weeks prior stating she couldn’t imagine a third. It was like I was cursed. I couldn’t escape pregnancy. I couldn’t escape growing families. I couldn’t escape the women’s smiles. But I could stop my behavior. I could stop scrolling. I could stop looking at their stories.
My Christmas gift didn’t appear under the tree and I didn’t post it on Instagram. My gift is a little voice inside telling me to stop and to listen. Listen to me and start again.
