So, today was it. The day. The day we were supposed to be four. The day I have been terrified of for weeks now.
It was nice, which is weird. We went camping, at my insistence, at a beautiful little state park an hour away. I wanted to go fishing and crabbing before the area is ruined by the oil slick. It was amazingly beautiful. Kira was the perfect, cute, adorable little girl that everyone dreams of when thinking of a future child (this rarely happens). The water was perfect, the weather was perfect. I was blissfully happy. Even when this morning I had a random image of another Jennifer, the one that got to keep her son. She was talking to a friend on this same day and complaining, in a happy way, about the stubborn baby that hadn't come yet. Didn't he know today was his due date? Even having this weird little alternate reality flash didn't make me sad. I actually smiled when I thought that.
I can't really wrap my mind around the weird dissonance. In one universe this was the perfect day of celebrating our beautiful family. In another universe there was a mother living through Mother's day without her baby. In yet another universe there was a woman on cycle day 1, about to take a round of Clomid that is likely (she hopes) to result in a pregnancy. I couldn't be all these things at once. They didn't fit together. I was mostly happy and that was the universe I lived in today and yesterday. Aiden was not much on my mind, and when he was it was brief and not all that sad. The grieving me was very distant until I started composing this post. Remembering the flash of the alternate Jen made me sad tonight. Once the happy parts of the days were over, I was free to become the unhappy me again.
It's odd that I can't fit these together. Shouldn't I be able to be happy and sad at the same time? Do I always have to be sad when I think of Aiden? I realized tonight that the due date was so important to me because I could imagine being more pregnant, but I could never imagine having the baby. I guess it's because I knew how sick he was. I knew he was never going to live on his own so the only way I could hold onto him was to stay pregnant. Today marked the end of the alternate world where I could still be pregnant. It doesn't mean much to the me that has a beautiful daughter, at least not today. But it does mean a lot to the me that might be pregnant in two weeks. What if I have to repeat this date over and over again for the next nine months? That is some kind of mind fuck. And why the hell do I keep starting cycles and ovulating on Mondays when my cycles are so damn irregular? It boggles the mind. And then there is the grieving mother that desperately wants a happy memory of her lost son and can't seem to find any, no matter how hard she looks.
I feel like a crazy person, speaking of myself in the third person and talking about alternate realities. I suppose this too is normal. I will take being happy right now and the enjoyment I got from this weekend. I just wish I could fit Aiden in with the happy moments. I miss him. I don't want to forget him just so I can be happy.
Edited to add: For all of my online friends that don't have their first living babies yet and are dealing with infertility - watch this video, brought to me by the lovely Uppercase Woman.