Eeyore From an emotional perspective, I think I have three options, going forward:

1.  Skeptical.  Why believe in this pregnancy before it has proved itself?  It’s too early to get excited.  There’s always another test that could have disastrous results, and it’s best to interpret all data pessimistically, to avoid disappointment.

2.  Celebratory!  I may miscarry tomorrow but this is more pregnant than I’ve ever been!  Woo hoo!

3.  Invested.  I’m going to be crushed if I miscarry, anyway, so why not pick out names, start prenatal yoga, and start planning?  I can’t pretend that I’m not hopeful.  If I’m pregnant, I should just be pregnant.

Over the weekend I was definitely doing #1.  I gave up, partly because I truly didn’t think any developing embryo would be viable with such a "late" start.  More importantly, I gave up because my hoping muscle was fatigued and trembling and I just couldn’t keep it up.  Was that so bad?  Could I change that about me if I wanted?

And wasn’t it fun to ride the roller coaster? 

My husband quoted some Scripture to me during the weekend of despair: "Joy comes in the morning," he said.  I snorted derisively.  I was literally a day away from that actually being true. 

It is what it is.  Hoping is hard for me.  I beat myself up if I hope and then am disappointed.  I tell myself the lie that hope is this Icarus-thing, a flying too close to the sun kind of thing that is best avoided.  But I think I confuse hope with expectation. 

So I am definitely trying to be #2 for now.  It’s hard, because yes: I am pregnant today but I have little to show for it. 

Being pregnant is wonderful because there is a baby at the end of it, and for some of us it is a very public victory after a long season of grief and disappointment.  For some of us it’s a validation of our womanhood, our bodies; sometimes it’s proof that God does like me after all.  That’s how I see it sometimes, right or wrong.  Being pregnant for itself doesn’t mean as much, especially when the pregnancy is precariously early and supposed to be a secret.

I like to think about the shower and the baby and the name and the maternity clothes because they are much more tangible than today.  Today is twinges and a strange constellation of subtle feelings that I think

[I hope]

will coalesce, over the next few weeks, into something much more overwhelming.  Undeniable.  At times miserable.

Today, though, is just today.  Not much that is really solid.

So yes, I am hoping to drag myself from #1 into #2.  Not going too far into the future, where hope hardens into expectation because I’ve rehearsed it too many times.  For me this means putting limits around my pregnant thoughts and conversations.  I am a woman who has more than one purpose in this life, and I have things to do that have nothing to do with being pregnant or being a mother.  I have to remember to do those things every day too, and stay in today.

I also have to remember that God is about surprises, sparkly birthday present joyful surprises as well as the sucky ones.  If I’m always all Eeyore and looking ahead to plan every disaster, I’ll miss out. 

Life can change in an instant.

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