CD8

For a while now, I have been feeling like P and I aren't in the same place in terms of dealing with the miscarriage and, more generally, starting a family. When I have attempted to express the sadness I feel, or even merely give a glimpse into it, he has seemed frustrated -- when one time he responded with "Stop it," I stopped talking to him about it at all. When I instead have expressed excitement or anticipation with respect to trying or, more often, actually having kids, he has ignored me completely, not even acknowledging that I have spoken at all. We normally communicate with one another well, but the last couple of months have been difficult. And it has left me feeling like I am alone in this, not just bearing our sorrow alone but like somehow I am the one who wants kids and he is just along for the ride, humoring me to avoid confrontation. I know intellectually this isn't the case -- he was so excited when we first started trying and when I was pregnant, and I know how excited he is to have kids -- but it's hard not to feel that way given the way he's been acting.

Yesterday, while Christmas shopping, I allowed myself to slow down in the children's section at Macy's, looking at tiny outfits that for the first time in a while didn't make me want to erupt in tears. I picked up an especially cute one and asked whether we could dress our kid in it one day. As usual, he ignored me. For once, I called him on it. Evidently, being excited seems too much like July to him, and leaves him feeling way too vulnerable. The thought of putting himself out there and getting hurt again is excruciating. So he has remained guarded, figuring if he doesn't care it won't hurt as much if we don't get pregnant, or if we do and miscarry again.

Somehow it didn't occur to me that we were actually in the exact same place -- because I definitely feel the same way, and it has made it hard for me to get excited again too. I think not talking about it has made it worse for both of us. And I think it's made it really hard for me to get beyond the sadness, because it's the only thing I've been allowing myself to feel. Not being vulnerable to avoid getting hurt has just left me living with and dwelling in the hurt I already feel, and that really sucks. I suspect it sucks for him too. So we decided to commit to moving past the pain, to embracing the excitement and concomitant vulnerability. And I actually feel a bit better.

Admittedly, we started this process last month in Vienna when we bought our pig clock to put in the room-that-shall-not-be-named-that-is now-a-storage-room, but I think we both felt burned again when that cycle was a bust and went back to the way we had been, which, at least for me, was a major setback. I'm hoping we'll be able to keep it going for a bit longer this time. At least now it seems like we can talk about it.