waiting

They say patience is a virtue.  I've never been good at the waiting game.  But I've been waiting...it will be a week tomorrow.  In many ways I don't want to publish this post.  I think I have accepted my fate, but I still haven't really.  I guess the longer my wait, the more I try to make those deals with God that are fruitless, but they are human reactions.

So what's with the ambiguity about?  Why am I so vague?  Because the flip side is that I have not accepted my fate.  Last Tuesday, I was by a calendar, nine weeks and five days pregnant.  Did I say that?  Yes, I said that.  Last week, I was to head into my first (and last) OB appointment.  I was nervous.  I wasn't ready.  I had figured the worst that would come from it was that we were going to have multiples.  Instead, I received the complete opposite.  No multiples.  An empty sac measuring seven weeks and a five days.  ((exhale))

So where do I go from that?  That was not the diagnosis I was expecting.  I was expecting the actual due date.  I was expecting the pictures.  I was expecting that we were going to devise this plan of sharing the news with the family...

I was relatively calm.  I think I was more in shock than anything.  I rationalized, internalized, and rationalized some more.  I did my usual.  I shrunk into myself and wanted to hide.  I felt like a failure.  I felt rejected.  I felt bewilderment.  Only when I felt his hands squeeze my leg did I even let out a whimper and then a tear escaped from the corners of my eyes.