Surrounded by shoulds

Well here we are - the 1^st of May. The month I’ve been dreading for the past 7 months. It’s a month of shoulds so I’m going to try to not spend the whole month “shoulding” all over myself.

On Friday 3rd May, I should have been having a farewell morning tea for my maternity leave. I should have been surrounded with cakes, chocolates and flowers. I should have got a card wishing me a safe and speedy delivery. I should have, but I’m not. Instead, it will just be another Friday.

On Sunday 12^th May, I should have been celebrating my first Mother’s day. I should have got cards, phone calls and emails from friends and family wishing me Happy Mother’s Day and the fact I would soon be a Mother. I should have got some present from my husband, or at least a bunch of flowers. I should have, but I’m not. Instead, I’ll be driving home from a wedding in the country.

Somewhere between the 14^th and 20^th May, I should have been lying on a hospital table having my baby cut out of me. I should have been wearing an ugly hospital gown and cap, and those squeaky booties. I should have been lying in a bed, surrounded by my husband and family, cuddling my new born baby. I should have, but I’m not. Instead, I’ll be busy at work finishing up things before I go away.

On the 23^rd May, I should have been celebrating my baby’s official due date. I should have been cuddling my baby, looking at it lovingly, marvelling at the fact it was finally in my arms. I should have been overwhelmed with the joy I felt that this tiny person was now in my life. I should have, but I’m not. Instead, I will be driving from the beach to the mountain treehouse we’ve decided to stay at to commemorate the day.

As I said, it’s a month of shoulds.

I’m not quite sure what to do with all of these shoulds. I can’t escape them so I guess the only choice is to deal with them. At the start of the year, I was having panic attacks at the thought of how I would ever survive this month. I know I’ll cope, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling enormously fragile. I feel like I’m walking on egg shells, like anything could come along and shatter the foundation it’s taken me 7 months to rebuild.

At the start of the year, I asked my husband if we could go away for the week Peanut was due. I decided I just didn’t want to be at home for it. I want to be somewhere else, far far away, so I can be distracted from what I should have been doing that week. When we spoke about where to go, I told him that all I wanted was to be pregnant by the time we went. I didn’t think that was too much to ask. I wanted to be one of those women who got to tell people I found out I was pregnant the day my child was due. And admittedly, that it still a possibility. If I conceive next week, I will be pregnant on Peanut’s due date. I’m hopeful of that, but it’s a lot of pressure to put on one tiny sperm!

Part of me can’t wait for this month to be over. I think it’s been hovering as the last part of the miscarriage to deal with. The last emotional hurdle I need to survive. It pales in comparison to the hell I’ve already survived, but it doesn’t mean it’s going to hurt any less. It’s going to suck and I’m going to be upset and I’ll probably cry. But maybe, just maybe, going through it will be the final part of my journey, to finally release Peanut, and mend my broken heart. I so dearly hope so.