It’s only been a week since the D&C. It feels like a year ago. Sort of how once I found out I was pregnant, I only sort of vaguely remembered the days when I used to eat junk food (of course, today I’ve totally returned to my craptastic food preferences-something I have to give up again soon as part of my “making the body ready for a baby” vow”).
The only real reminder is the constant drizzle of blood.
The flip side is that I’m looking around asking myself how the fuck we got to October already. Where the hell did all the Halloween costumes come from?
Even though it’s not like I would’ve had a baby this Halloween, the infant Halloween costumes made me stop yesterday in Target, and stroke them wistfully, realizing I won’t (likely) have a baby to dress up next Halloween either, as it’s unlikely we’ll start trying before February, and I’m not some kind of evil wench who wants her baby early just so she can dress up a 3 day old in a costume.
I can handle the pregnant women showing up everywhere I look (mostly). I can handle the baby food aisle at my grocery store. I can even handle all the fucking storylines on tv with miscarriage or pregnancy (Jamie in Bionic woman lost her baby in the first episode, Betty’s love interest’s girlfriend on Ugly Betty is pregnant and no one knows who the father is, blah blah blah). In some small way I can warn myself that I’m about to enter the world (either in reality or through the tv) and I could run into pregnancy/babies there, and steel myself for it.
What I can’t seem to handle are the moments of realization. Realizing I might as well get my new winter coat tailored since I won’t be second trimestering my way through the snow. Realizing that there will be no Halloween costumes for my baby next year. Realizing that I haven’t even stopped bleeding and thusly can’t have sex even with a condom so I can’t begin the countdown until I COULD start trying again. A million small realizations that fly into my brain with no warning.
How do you protect against that?