All over the place. Incoherent. I don't take it as a good thing that I can't seem to articulate anything. Don't feel the clarity to write. I've had the start of many posts, and titles. There's so much going on in my head. My heart.
The class I'm teaching started this week, and the classes I'm taking start next week.
Monday was Augu.st 25. One year since the IUI that assisted the conception of our boys. 8 months since my water broke. Four months physically pregnant. Nineteen weeks, 3 days gestation.
Three full years since we started trying to have a child.
My friend S gave birth to a huge (10.5 lb) baby girl last Friday. Everyone's healthy, doing fine, everyone's home. She's a beautiful baby, and her parents look (at least from the pictures) content. Happy to have her, and filled with love for their family. And they are aware how lucky they are.
She gave birth on the day C graduated. I was out getting coffee, dropping him off at school with his dress clothes and saw her in her car being driven toward the hospital.
The conflict I feel inside is enormous.
Graduation was good, but hard. There were babies *everywhere* and it hurt especially. I had let myself imagine our family at his graduation. The honored guest speaker told of his own PhD graduation and how his year old daughter shouted "Daddy!" when his name was called. Then he spoke of visiting that daughter just a few weeks earlier to meet his new grandson, Jacob.
We hosted our parents and they got along very well, but it was a lot of work. It was very nice, but I didn't really feel like I could even mention the boys directly -- hell, even indirectly -- in front of C's folks.
At one point we had been talking about how in a couple of years well both be working and maybe at the same university. I casually said joked that we'd have to get jobs at different schools so when/if we had a kid they'd have a choice (between the two schools) about where they could go to college. Something like that. Dead silence from everyone, horrified look from my ILs, especially my MIL. I got the message loud and clear that I shouldn't say anything that refers to our children, living or dead. Of course, that didn't stop MIL from talking constantly about her other grandchildren.
My dad was actually pretty good about being appropriate and supportive. We got a little time to talk and I was really glad he was here. I felt for him, also being surrounded by the babies -- at graduation, at the reception in C's department -- the grandchildren being celebrated. (And of course, the speakers comment about getting to meet his own grandson named Jacob...)
But my dad was proud to be there. Really proud of C and all he accomplished. It was great to see.
But so bittersweet. I felt it all weekend. Probably feeling it now, still.
It occurs to me that every big event from now on will be bittersweet. With time, I assume it will be less bitter and more sweet, but that time feels really far away.
I don't want to teach, I don't want to leave the house anymore. I want to hole up again. I just about completed all the work I owed, so I don't know if it's all the pressure of the new school year with my classes, and teaching again, or having sensory memories of a year ago, or just the beginning of awareness of anniversaries (for the next 4 and a half months).
And I'm fat. I never lost the weight I gained this spring (made up more than what I lost with the pregnancy), and I think I may have gained more. Trying on clothes at the mall this weekend was a huge mistake -- and there was some woman with a crying newborn in a twin stroller practically following me through the mall. That was really fun after trying on clothes that I was no where near getting into. What I did fit into looked bad. I have one pair of pants (maybe 2) and a few tops I can wear to teach in. Maybe a skirt or two -- maybe. I'm one of those people squeezing into clothes that don't fit, hoping no one will notice. I think they do.
Guess that's enough of the kvetching/update. More articulate posts to come soon, hopefully. Going to try to start commenting more regularly, too.