Pesky Tests
It's important to note that starting in August, I was teaching through all of this. At some points, it was helpful because it was a much needed distraction from my overly analytical mind. It was a way to make myself think of others instead of wallowing in self-pity. However, it also enabled me to avoid thinking about myself. Additionally, I had some of these fun little nuggets:
A 14-year-old boy was talking while I was giving directions, so I walked over for proximity control. When I arrived at his desk, I finished giving directions. After which, he takes his pencil and points at my belly and says "Look at that gut!" Folks, it was September. Remember when we talked about the right thing versus the easy thing? The easy thing would have been to snap that pencil in half and scream at him that I had just lost my baby - or simply run out of there crying. (Despite my hyper-emotional state, I did neither of those things).
Dealing with school on top of the miscarriage made it hard for me to know if I was unhappy because I was still recovering, unhappy because I was too stressed, unhappy because I hated my job, or unhappy for some other indeterminable reason because I was too busy trying to figure out which of the previous was making me unhappy.
A 14-year-old boy was talking while I was giving directions, so I walked over for proximity control. When I arrived at his desk, I finished giving directions. After which, he takes his pencil and points at my belly and says "Look at that gut!" Folks, it was September. Remember when we talked about the right thing versus the easy thing? The easy thing would have been to snap that pencil in half and scream at him that I had just lost my baby - or simply run out of there crying. (Despite my hyper-emotional state, I did neither of those things).
Dealing with school on top of the miscarriage made it hard for me to know if I was unhappy because I was still recovering, unhappy because I was too stressed, unhappy because I hated my job, or unhappy for some other indeterminable reason because I was too busy trying to figure out which of the previous was making me unhappy.
Naturally, I decided that the major reason I was unhappy was because of the miscarriage, and I was certain that the easiest and best way to recover was to get pregnant again. We had decided that it was best to be open rather than attempting pregnancy in order to alleviate the stress of expecting pregnancy. After all, I was already under a significant amount of stress without adding more.
So we'll fast forward to after the poem was written. November was a full month. Daniel was travelling for his new job. While he was in California for 10 days, I took a few days off work and drove up to Pennsylvania to celebrate my best friend getting married. As I mentioned earlier, having someone else to serve and think about other than myself was a huge benefit - especially because this was something I not only wanted to do, but was overjoyed to be a part of. Yet, the sorrow was still lodged in my heart, and I was mortified that I broke down the day after I arrived. It was her weekend, and here I was a weeping willow with a quick trigger to tears. It didn't help that I was sick almost all weekend. I was unable to sleep. I was incredibly nauseous. I kept over-heating.
Out loud, I kept saying I was probably just tired from the travel, but I was almost three weeks late, so that was certainly not what I believed was the cause of how unwell I felt.
When I got home, I was slightly uncertain that I was pregnant - the NFP signs simply didn't line up, but three weeks? That never happened to me. Daniel was still away, and I took a pregnancy test. To my disbelief, it was positive! I took the second test in the box - just to make sure. It was faint, but it was definitely positive. I was so shocked, that I sobbed the whole way to work. This was literally the earliest I could have been pregnant after Raphael. I guess God agreed with me that having a baby would be the best way for me to recover. I could not contain my excitement as I went to Encounter that night, and naturally I told the girls the news. They plotted and planned with me to decide how I would surprise Daniel when he got home that night.
I wrote him a little note with a bean that was the size of the baby at that point, and after some slight confusion, he shared in my surprise and excitement. We couldn't believe it. This was perfect timing. His family would be in town in a few days for Thanksgiving. We decided we would suggest doing the "What I'm thankful for" routine that some people do on Thanksgiving, and I would say, "a positive pregnancy test" or "a new baby." Practically giddy with excitement, I called the doctor and got an appointment for that Monday. By Sunday though, it became clear that whatever was happening would not result in a baby.
So we waited for the blood tests to come back. Had I actually been pregnant? Or were they just bogus tests? In the mean time, I was dealing with the insanity that precedes any school break. What is it with kids expecting that they don't have to do work just because it's the week before a break? I know I wasn't the only teacher who wasn't showing a movie. You would have thought I told the students they had to eat the desks for lunch the way they reacted to me providing work for them to do. It was pure insanity. I didn't need them to fight me now - not when I was trying to figure out if I had just lost another baby.
I decided to focus on what I could control, and I scrubbed down my apartment. I'm talking on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor with white vinegar and water (thanks for the tip Mom!). I couldn't control the outcome of the blood test. I couldn't control how my kids behaved at school. I couldn't control whether or not I would get pregnant again soon. I could clean though. That I could do.
The test results finally came in on a Tuesday morning. The nurse who called me with the news was incredibly sympathetic as she told me that the results were negative. I had never been pregnant. I practically sobbed with joy. I hadn't lost another baby. It was just fluky hormones and a botched test. (Ladies, don't buy pregnancy tests on sale...lesson learned).
Even with this relieving news, I still wasn't happy. So when December came, and I was late again, a small part of me hoped and wondered, and then when January came, and I was late again, a small part of me hoped and wondered. I will be eternally grateful for those friends (and wonderful husband) who stuck with me each of those months when I shared the anxiety and the hope with them month to month. I had become obsessed. I analyzed my NFP chart daily like it was a cryptic message from National Treasure or something. If I stared at it enough, checked it enough times, then maybe one of the times, it would jump out and scream "You're pregnant!"
Needless to say, what I needed was patience, and clearly I did not have it. Naturally, it didn't help that nearly all of it was being spent at my job. I can't go into a ton of details (though I will go into some next week,) but just for some perspective: By December, four teachers had quit. Not four teachers at the school, not even just four teachers in my department. Four teachers on the English I team. My team has a total of eight people on it. At least two of them quit because the job was just too stressful. I'm not going to lie. I was a little envious that they were able to walk away so easily. It would have been amazing to walk away and be able to focus on myself and getting better.
I wasn't sure if it was the miscarriage or the job that was making me unhappy, but I knew that the combo was toxic. I couldn't do anything to change the fact that I had miscarried, but I could do something about my job. As stories continued to come home, and my stress became more apparent, the conversation of me quitting became a weekly conversation.
Tune in on Thursday April 19th to find out what I decided to do about the various stresses in my life.
So we waited for the blood tests to come back. Had I actually been pregnant? Or were they just bogus tests? In the mean time, I was dealing with the insanity that precedes any school break. What is it with kids expecting that they don't have to do work just because it's the week before a break? I know I wasn't the only teacher who wasn't showing a movie. You would have thought I told the students they had to eat the desks for lunch the way they reacted to me providing work for them to do. It was pure insanity. I didn't need them to fight me now - not when I was trying to figure out if I had just lost another baby.
I decided to focus on what I could control, and I scrubbed down my apartment. I'm talking on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor with white vinegar and water (thanks for the tip Mom!). I couldn't control the outcome of the blood test. I couldn't control how my kids behaved at school. I couldn't control whether or not I would get pregnant again soon. I could clean though. That I could do.
The test results finally came in on a Tuesday morning. The nurse who called me with the news was incredibly sympathetic as she told me that the results were negative. I had never been pregnant. I practically sobbed with joy. I hadn't lost another baby. It was just fluky hormones and a botched test. (Ladies, don't buy pregnancy tests on sale...lesson learned).
Even with this relieving news, I still wasn't happy. So when December came, and I was late again, a small part of me hoped and wondered, and then when January came, and I was late again, a small part of me hoped and wondered. I will be eternally grateful for those friends (and wonderful husband) who stuck with me each of those months when I shared the anxiety and the hope with them month to month. I had become obsessed. I analyzed my NFP chart daily like it was a cryptic message from National Treasure or something. If I stared at it enough, checked it enough times, then maybe one of the times, it would jump out and scream "You're pregnant!"
Needless to say, what I needed was patience, and clearly I did not have it. Naturally, it didn't help that nearly all of it was being spent at my job. I can't go into a ton of details (though I will go into some next week,) but just for some perspective: By December, four teachers had quit. Not four teachers at the school, not even just four teachers in my department. Four teachers on the English I team. My team has a total of eight people on it. At least two of them quit because the job was just too stressful. I'm not going to lie. I was a little envious that they were able to walk away so easily. It would have been amazing to walk away and be able to focus on myself and getting better.
I wasn't sure if it was the miscarriage or the job that was making me unhappy, but I knew that the combo was toxic. I couldn't do anything to change the fact that I had miscarried, but I could do something about my job. As stories continued to come home, and my stress became more apparent, the conversation of me quitting became a weekly conversation.
Tune in on Thursday April 19th to find out what I decided to do about the various stresses in my life.
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