Wednesday, 6 February 2013

Flying through the preg-muda triangle

Over the past 24 hours, I seem to have been sucked into a vortex I’m calling the “preg-muda triangle.”It’s a strange, parallel universe where freaky coincidences happen – and I don’t like it! 

It all started very innocently yesterday when I a lady  walked by me and I heard her say “I’m about 19 or 20 weeks. Actually, I’m 20 weeks. God, I’m half way there.” My initial reaction was jealousy – not only because she was pregnant, but because she was totally oblivious and carefree about the fact she had reached this milestone!  I quickly realised I didn’t know how many weeks I would have been at this point. I counted them for a while after the miscarriage but gave up around the 13 week mark. I wondered if this was a sign I was moving on? I thought it was and gave myself a pat on the back for showing signs of progression!

I didn’t realise it at the time, but that was the event that trigged the creation of the triangle. This morning, I had to go and have another blood test to check my egg reserve.  They had lost the doctor’s request for the test so I had to give a new sample.

As I sat in the waiting room, the next person was called and a lady walked into the room. The rooms are not particularly sound-proof there so I overheard her tell the nurse that she was 5 months pregnant, and how it was a miracle given her age. I didn’t hear the exact age but it was 40-something. Again, I felt jealous because the nurse was the same nurse that took my blood that confirmed I was pregnant. I started to grimace and squirm in my seat.

The next woman was called into the other room and again, I heard her say to the nurse that she was pregnant and it was her first child. I sat there looking between the two rooms, knowing pregnant women were in both. I sat in the middle of the two rooms so in that moment, I was actually the tip of my own preg-muda triangle – made up of two pregnant women and one woman who was about to get jabbed to see if she was barren or not! (Not that I think I’m barren – that was just the words my brain created at the time in the mood I was in).

I watched them both walk out and noticed their defined bumps. Yep, they definitely had cargo on board. I squirmed more, and sent my husband off to order us breakfast in the café downstairs. I was in a foul mood now.

When I walked in for my test, I noticed it was the same nurse who took my blood last week. She recognised me and said “Weren’t you here last week?” I told her I was and felt like I was living there at the moment as she shoved another needle into my vein. This was my 4th blood test in 2 weeks.

I walked into work with a heavy heart and heavy feet. I felt like I was being stalked by pregnant women. It was like they were circling around me just waiting to pounce. I was almost running for the sanctuary of the office until I realised there was another two pregnant women waiting for me. I couldn’t escape them!

I sat in my chair and waited for my 11am meeting. Finally, I could escape the pregnancy vultures and be in a room of non-pregnant women! The universe had other plans – I turned up late and the only chair free? Yep, you guessed it, was next to a pregnant woman! It was everything I could do not to scream and run from the building. However, I thought that would end up with me in a padded cell wearing a straight jacket!

I knew it was all just coincidence, but really, how much can a person take?  I couldn’t concentrate on what was being said as all I could hear in my head was Devil-Fiona saying “See, everyone in the world is pregnant except you.”  

I walked back to the office feeling even more deflated then when I first arrived this morning. My body was hunched, my head was down, my shoulders slumped. I glanced up to see if the lights had changed only to see another pregnant woman on the other side of the street. I just looked down at my feet. I couldn’t face seeing another one!

Ever since my miscarriage, I’ve had to deal with seeing pregnant women every day. I’ve learnt to deal with the girls in the office and seeing pregnant women walk past me on the street. I normally just see them, register they’re pregnant, feel a pang of jealousy, wonder why them and not me, then go about my business. It all happens rather quickly. However, when you spend a day being surrounded by it, feeling like there is no escape, well, that’s just too much to bare.  

I call this the preg-muda triangle because I feel like I could easily be sucked in, never to be seen or heard of again. Well, not the whole me but there’s definitely a piece of me that is on the verge of being lost forever. I can recognise that piece as the bit that admits defeat. It gives into the temptation of surrender – not having to try anymore, not having to care anymore, not having to feel anymore. It’s a seductive option because doing all of those things can be so hard on a day-to-day basis.

But as I write this, I also recognise that the majority of me refuses to let that piece go. It’s like I can feel my cells banding together to pull the defeatist cell back from the edge of no return. In this moment, I realise that if I can’t let myself surrender, then my strength must still be there. My desire to make this happen must be stronger than the desire to give in. So maybe, all the strange events of the past 24 hours was just to remind me of that. If that’s the case, then I guess I can appreciate it for making me realise that. In fact, now I see I’m just like Cary Gordon Trantham – one of the few women to actually survive flying trough the Bermuda Triangle!  

Image by David Castillo 
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