Yesterday I went with Dave on a call while he did some preg-checking (yeah, I'm down with the vet-lingo. I'm fact, I'm pretty much a vet just by living with one). He was checking to see if any of the cows had been bred over the last few months.
Now, I know this is all going to sound ridiculous, and you may even feel the need to email me and suggest counseling. But, the thing is, I was nervous for those cows. I know they are not humans, I should not humanize them, they don't have feelings like humans do.
But, I was sitting there, almost on pins and needles when he was saying if they were pregnant or not. I felt nervous for the cows. I so badly wanted them to be pregnant. I wanted there to be a little tiny marble-sized cow (that's the cutest mental image) in there. I wanted that mama cow to have the chance to have a little one and love it to death. And, I felt excited when he said that many of them were pregnant. I thought, "Yay! There is happiness in the world! That mama is so lucky- she is going to be so happy!" I remembered my joy and excitement I had when I saw those two little lines.
Then. The last one was checked.
He stuck his arm where the sun don't shine and said, "She's open." Meaning, she's not pregnant. I was sad for her. But me, with my 3 years of experience with those let-downs, thought, "Oh honey, you'll have another chance. Don't give up."
The farmer asked Dave what the problem was (at this point my mind was spinning). Dave said that she didn't have a right ovary and a very little left ovary. She had very little chance of getting bred.
(If you read on and are in agriculture, I KNOW that this is how the world works and this is how people make their money and blah, blah, blah. It all makes sense in my head).
Then the farmer says, "Well, I'll just get rid of her...take her to the sale barn...not worth keeping her...she's worthless then if we can't get her bred." Dave just looked at me, his eyes saying, "Sorry, babe--I know what you're thinking."
And you all know what I did...I related that cow to me. I thought, "Let's just get rid of me since I can't seem to have a kid. She's kind of worthless and not worth keeping around if her system is never going to work the way it should."
Again, I know this isn't logical. Grief isn't logical. I kind of wanted to kick the farmer in the shins and tell him what I thought. Ask him if he wanted to throw me in with the cow for a better deal. Instead, I teared up and then got busy staring at my phone. What did people do when they didn't have phones and started to cry in awkward situations? I'd be lost.
I'll just say it--Maggie was born one month ago. It is the 17th. Son of a gun. I hate this.
I thought of it when I was laying in bed this morning and I immediately had two thoughts.
First, I thought about what Maggie would be doing if she were a month old. I thought about what I would be doing if Maggie were a month old. I would be getting up in the middle of the night with her. I would be rocking her and cuddling her. I would be listening to her coo and feeling her fingers curl around mine. Instead of writing this stupid blog I would be watching her nap on Dave's chest. I might be trying to console a screaming child or wiping poo off our walls. But, I wouldn't be reading books on infant loss. I wouldn't be making plans for traveling in July. I wouldn't be so incredibly heartbroken.
Second, I thought about what I would be doing if Maggie were still living inside of me. She would be growing eyelashes (would she be blessed with super long ones like her cousins?) and she would be able to start opening her eyes. I would be having my 7 month appointment and listening to heartbeat. I would be watching my belly grow and I would be feeling so much excitement and pride in our growing family. I would give anything to hear that miraculous sound of her heartbeat. I would listen to it over and over and over again. Is it possible that my heart could stop beating, just from sadness?
Instead, I am doing none of those. I am sitting here wondering what I should do to keep myself busy so that I don't get overwhelmed in my sorrow. But, everywhere I look and everything I do, there are reminders of her and what could have been--
I look at the fireplace and remember when I thought, "We'll need to get some pads to cover up the corners so she doesn't hurt herself."
I look at the kitchen and remember when I thought, "We'll have to organize a cupboard or two to keep her dishes and things in it."
I look in the laundry room and see the baby clothes detergent that I still have.
The kitchen counter has stacks of sympathy cards on it.
No more ultrasound pictures are hanging on our fridge.
My inbox keeps receiving emails from Motherhood Maternity and Babies 'R Us. I should unsubscribe but that would mean having to open them instead of just immediately deleting them.
Yesterday I was in WalMart and I ended up in the baby section. Or, right outside the baby section. I panicked. Instead of going through I backtracked and went through other aisles. I just couldn't face that section that I once been so proud and excited to be standing in. I tried not to look as I walked quickly by, but I managed to see that they had the cutest little Easter and spring outfits in there. And they were cute even without a kid in them. Just think how much cuter they would have been with little Maggie in there.
Just think how much better our lives would have been with little Maggie in them.
I miss her.