Prior to July of this year, I don't think that I had ever heard the term "chemical pregnancy" before. I would have assumed it was some process through which you try and get pregnant through the use of chemicals, probably. But, as I learned, that was not the case.
After [I quit counting to help my attitude] months of trying to conceive, I finally tested positive on a pregnancy test in July. I already thought that I was pregnant due to some symptoms I was having, so the positive test result hit me as more of a "I thought so. Yes!" than a "I can't believe it! Finally!" Mark and I were still pretty ecstatic and we immediately started talking to Anna about becoming a big sister. I had only been pregnant once before, and that pregnancy was perfect up until her due date. I had no reason to think that we weren't on the same path.
Unfortunately, we were granted just three short days of knowing we were expecting baby #2. He/she didn't show up on a blood test on Monday, and they broke the news to me while I was at work over the phone. I have always (in a sick sense) pictured receiving terrible news at work since I'm there so often, but experiencing it was quite another thing. I first tried to have her tell me that it was some sort of mistake - that I was really pregnant and maybe there was something wrong with the test. I then wept, and then tried to get myself together and sneak out of the office unseen. I escaped without having to talk to anyone and made it to my car, not sure of what was next.
I cried for 2 days. I literally could not stop crying. Anna would say, "Mommy, you cryin?" And I would reply, "Yes, baby, but it's not your fault. I'm sad right now but I'll get better. I'll try and stop crying real soon." And then a tear would fall down my face, and she laughed because I couldn't make them stop. And, strangely, this made me laugh too. Anna soon forgot about being a big sister, and life just kind of moved on the way it tends to do.
There have been moments when this has been surprisingly difficult, but then I look back and I'm amazed at how relatively easy it was to move on. I scratched my head trying to see if I could figure out why it happened, how it happened, or if I would ever get pregnant again. But then I took a step back and thought about all of the people out there who are trying to have their first baby, and the fact that they don't have any toddlers around to laugh away their tears.
I have convinced myself yet again that I can and will get pregnant with what will be baby #3 for me. I am a believer, and I just know in my gut that this will happen. These things are kind of like spouses - you can't really choose when it will happen. It just does. Or, it doesn't. And like the most intricate and important aspects of life, there is very little rhyme or reason to the happening. For now, though, I enjoy my quiet confidence and will continue to nurture my hope that I will bring Anna a little brother or sister who will pester her for years to come.
My name is Jaime, and I shall believe.
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