Well, friends at writing forum, I guess there's no better place to describe mixed feelings than right here.
As you already know, if you read my earlier blog, I was somewhat shocked to discover an unexpected pregnancy.
What I might not have expressed is that it occurred at the worst time ever. Finances weren't right, living situation wasn't right, and it was right smack after my first year at a new job and only a few credits into my Master's degree. There were definitely times that I thought (and even said to myself) I really don't want this baby.
But, of course, no one can resist the sweet idyllic thoughts of an adorable new baby, and I eventually allowed myself to be taken in by them. I even began to look forward to the baby, and introduced my 2 year old to baby sister in mommy's tummy.
Unfortunately, I miscarried today. At first, I felt utterly relieved. Everything in my life would have been turned upside down, and it would have been a pregnancy of constant stress. But then I felt guilty for being relieved, and even more guilty when I contemplated having to share the news with my 2 year old.
It's just strange to write it, but even though I didn't want this baby, on some levels I still wanted her. I still wanted to be a mommy again. It sounds really stupid, and maybe it's just the trauma of the moment, but I feel as though maybe I jinxed this pregnancy with my stressed-out attitude. I wanted her but I didn't want her. I loved her but I didn't really love her at the same time. Granted, the baby's development was basically arrested at 4 weeks, and it has only been around 3-4 weeks since I've known of her existence, but it doesn't make it any less painful or confusing.
Sometimes I feel as though life just likes to f#$5 with me. It gives me something I don't want until I actually decide I want it, and then it takes it away again. Doesn't really seem fair.
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