Have you ever cried so hard you thought your eyelids were going to flip themselves inside-out? No? Hm, ok, that probably means you're normal. As I sat on the cold, tile stairs leading up to the bathtub in our bathroom crying, I momentarily thought I might cry my eyes out. That's not a figure of speech either. The morning my questionable spotting turned into full blown bleeding, my eyes bulged from my head as I doubled-over in emotional pain that turned physical. "Crying" doesn't accurately describe it. No word in the thesaurus ever will. The pressure from bending over and crying from the deepest part of my gut had me convinced my eyes might literally pop out of my head. With all the sorrow I was feeling at that moment, I wouldn't have cared if they did but, in hindsight, I'm glad my eyes are still in their sockets.
Teddy, our rottweiler, came charging into the bathroom as soon as he heard me start to howl. As many times as he's seen me cry, it still creeps him out. He stares and me and tilts his head from side to side. He tried licking my tears but then he just rolled over on his back in a really awkward position and waited until I was done. You know how I said I don't use tissues or toilet paper to wipe my tears anymore but rather hand/dish towels? As I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, I didn't even grab the hand towel that was within arms reach. I just let the tears drip straight from my eyeballs onto the floor. I was folded in half so the tears didn't neatly stream down my cheeks, they dripped like faucets onto my socks. Do you ever cry so hard that you drool uncontrollably from the corners of your mouth? No? Yea, I figured I was alone on that one too. I had a snot mustache that eventually strung itself to my yoga pants...but I didn't care. I didn't care that the window was open and our old-lady neighbor, Ute, could hear my wails either. (Yes, "Ute" is a name here.)
Like I said before, this was just attempt ONE, people! What kind of a nutcase will I be by the end of this cluster-f? What will I do if attempt two doesn't work or if it does and I lose it later? God help us all. Seriously, reserve a room for me in a psych ward. I'm telling you now, I - will - need - sedated.
Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself again. The funny thing is though...I probably won't be admitted into a psych ward. I cried for a good 30 minutes on the bathroom floor...but Ted and I got up. I put my hair in a ponytail, blew a few snot-rockets into the sink (sorry, I'm my dad's daughter), splashed water on my face, and walked out of the bathroom. Eventually, I turned the lights off in the bathroom when moments before I was convinced I would never get enough air back in my lungs to breath let alone walk. How crazy is it that? No matter what comes at us, with the help of my faith, family, and friends...I'll heal. Maybe never completely, but I'll at least function again somehow. I guess that's the wonder of the human spirit.
Don't get it twisted now though. It's not like I kept it together ever since the bathroom breakdown. I still cry daily but I'm back to hiding it again. My breakdowns aren't nearly as dramatic. Even though those little embryos were no bigger than a period, they were mine...they were still ours. I miss them and feel sad that they didn't become more. I searched for reasons within myself why it might not have worked. Did I not take the hormones as I should have? Should I not have taken that headache medicine on Sunday? Did I stress myself too much? Is there something else wrong with me?
I prayed hard and often that day but by the end of the afternoon it wasn't a usual prayer anymore. I didn't thank God for anything and I didn't ask for anything either. My prayer went something like this -
"Dear God, I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...aren't you tired too?"
I don't know how else to say it besides I'm just so tired.
I appreciate all your support too. Your messages of advice and encouragement truly help me. I hoped for it to be implantation bleeding too but as it evolved throughout the day I had to accept the fact that it just didn't work this time. I slept horribly that night. I woke up at 3:30 AM to take a pregnancy test. (You remember, the one I cried over as I plucked it from the shelf?) Through tired eyes I watched it develop. I was alone again in the bathroom as Eddie slept peacefully in our bed. (How do men sleep so soundly?) I saw it skip the first line and only produce the one test line. After that, I watched about 3 hours of German TV before God let my mind rest again.
Again, thank you for all of your support. I'm doing ok. The thing that helps me the most is Ed. (Cheesy, right?) The moment I see him walk into the room, it cheers me up. It's sickening, I know, but he lights up my world. Whenever he rubs my back I can't help but look dreamily into his eyes and tell him "When you touch me, I feel like I could fart rainbows." When I cuddle with him on the couch, it's like I'm recharging my battery. When he hugs me, my whole world blurs and I look up at him half cross-eyed. He always tell me "Oh no...you're getting that drunk look in your eyes again!" and quickly lets me go. He calms me and comforts me. I need him.
It's been asked "How do you know when they're the one?" Well, I'm not sure what the general consensus is on that one but you want to know how I know it with Ed? (Besides the fact that he could make me fart rainbows.) I could/would kill for him. I would commit homicide, with my own bare hands, if anyone tried to take that man from me. Perhaps that's a brutal description and doesn't fit with my Christian claims but he's all I need in this world...well, him and his babies would be nice. Hypothetically, if someone told me there was another woman that would take Eddie from me...there is no doubt in my mind that I would destroy her. No weapon needed. Hypothetically, if someone pointed out a man and said that he was about to kill Eddie, I would get him first. Put me in a cage with a lion going for Eddie...I'd crack my knuckles and say "Let's do this, lion..." This just took a weird turn but these are the thoughts in my head at the moment. In case you didn't know, Ed means a lot to me. I don't want to commit homicide...so don't make me. Sometimes I feel like my love for Eddie is so intense that I can hardly imagine that my heart will ever expand to love something else just as intensely...if not more. God help the people that ever hurt my future children.
On that creepy note, I will leave you with just one fact.
Average life sentence in Germany: 21.5 years
Average life sentence in America: 29 years.
In both countries, prisoners are eligible for parole in 15 years. I'm pretty sure I'd get out early for good behavior.
In case the Feds are reading this, I'm totally joking about all that the "killing/homicide" junk.
Teddy, our rottweiler, came charging into the bathroom as soon as he heard me start to howl. As many times as he's seen me cry, it still creeps him out. He stares and me and tilts his head from side to side. He tried licking my tears but then he just rolled over on his back in a really awkward position and waited until I was done. You know how I said I don't use tissues or toilet paper to wipe my tears anymore but rather hand/dish towels? As I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, I didn't even grab the hand towel that was within arms reach. I just let the tears drip straight from my eyeballs onto the floor. I was folded in half so the tears didn't neatly stream down my cheeks, they dripped like faucets onto my socks. Do you ever cry so hard that you drool uncontrollably from the corners of your mouth? No? Yea, I figured I was alone on that one too. I had a snot mustache that eventually strung itself to my yoga pants...but I didn't care. I didn't care that the window was open and our old-lady neighbor, Ute, could hear my wails either. (Yes, "Ute" is a name here.)
Like I said before, this was just attempt ONE, people! What kind of a nutcase will I be by the end of this cluster-f? What will I do if attempt two doesn't work or if it does and I lose it later? God help us all. Seriously, reserve a room for me in a psych ward. I'm telling you now, I - will - need - sedated.
Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself again. The funny thing is though...I probably won't be admitted into a psych ward. I cried for a good 30 minutes on the bathroom floor...but Ted and I got up. I put my hair in a ponytail, blew a few snot-rockets into the sink (sorry, I'm my dad's daughter), splashed water on my face, and walked out of the bathroom. Eventually, I turned the lights off in the bathroom when moments before I was convinced I would never get enough air back in my lungs to breath let alone walk. How crazy is it that? No matter what comes at us, with the help of my faith, family, and friends...I'll heal. Maybe never completely, but I'll at least function again somehow. I guess that's the wonder of the human spirit.
Don't get it twisted now though. It's not like I kept it together ever since the bathroom breakdown. I still cry daily but I'm back to hiding it again. My breakdowns aren't nearly as dramatic. Even though those little embryos were no bigger than a period, they were mine...they were still ours. I miss them and feel sad that they didn't become more. I searched for reasons within myself why it might not have worked. Did I not take the hormones as I should have? Should I not have taken that headache medicine on Sunday? Did I stress myself too much? Is there something else wrong with me?
I prayed hard and often that day but by the end of the afternoon it wasn't a usual prayer anymore. I didn't thank God for anything and I didn't ask for anything either. My prayer went something like this -
"Dear God, I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...I'm tired...aren't you tired too?"
I don't know how else to say it besides I'm just so tired.
I appreciate all your support too. Your messages of advice and encouragement truly help me. I hoped for it to be implantation bleeding too but as it evolved throughout the day I had to accept the fact that it just didn't work this time. I slept horribly that night. I woke up at 3:30 AM to take a pregnancy test. (You remember, the one I cried over as I plucked it from the shelf?) Through tired eyes I watched it develop. I was alone again in the bathroom as Eddie slept peacefully in our bed. (How do men sleep so soundly?) I saw it skip the first line and only produce the one test line. After that, I watched about 3 hours of German TV before God let my mind rest again.
(A cheap German pregnancy test...correction, a cheap German NEGATIVE pregnancy test)
I've talked about hope before in another post but it amazes me how much it fights to stick around. I still had a little bit of hope before I took the test. After I took it, I thought, maybe, just maybe, it's wrong. It only cost 4 Euros, it could be faulty. On Friday, I still hoped that the blood test would show something different. I had imagined making that 1 hr drive to the clinic that day with a completely different feeling but instead, I was headed there with mostly dread and a little speck of hope. After I parked the car, I took the stairs up to the clinic. I thought about taking the elevator up but then I saw it had a yellow sign taped over the button that read "In Service." "Good one, God, wouldn't want to make any part of this trip just the slightest bit easier on me."
That trek up the stairs could be comparable to climbing Mt. Everest. It was emotionally and physically taxing for me to climb the stairs. The higher I got, the more I was convinced that there was less oxygen. I felt dizzy, my mouth got dry, and I started to hyperventilate. "Rachel, do not have a nervous breakdown in the stairwell...again." I told myself. "You're fine. You'll be fine. Keep climbing."
I hated every second of that appointment. Having to give more blood and wait an hour for the outcome...when I was pretty sure I knew the results already. I hated the awkward silence after I sat down in the doctor's office. "How are you?" She asked. "You already know how I am, don't you?" She confirmed my feelings that it didn't work and my hope officially died. Our 6-celler and 3-celler just didn't make it.
It's been asked "How do you know when they're the one?" Well, I'm not sure what the general consensus is on that one but you want to know how I know it with Ed? (Besides the fact that he could make me fart rainbows.) I could/would kill for him. I would commit homicide, with my own bare hands, if anyone tried to take that man from me. Perhaps that's a brutal description and doesn't fit with my Christian claims but he's all I need in this world...well, him and his babies would be nice. Hypothetically, if someone told me there was another woman that would take Eddie from me...there is no doubt in my mind that I would destroy her. No weapon needed. Hypothetically, if someone pointed out a man and said that he was about to kill Eddie, I would get him first. Put me in a cage with a lion going for Eddie...I'd crack my knuckles and say "Let's do this, lion..." This just took a weird turn but these are the thoughts in my head at the moment. In case you didn't know, Ed means a lot to me. I don't want to commit homicide...so don't make me. Sometimes I feel like my love for Eddie is so intense that I can hardly imagine that my heart will ever expand to love something else just as intensely...if not more. God help the people that ever hurt my future children.
On that creepy note, I will leave you with just one fact.
Average life sentence in Germany: 21.5 years
Average life sentence in America: 29 years.
In both countries, prisoners are eligible for parole in 15 years. I'm pretty sure I'd get out early for good behavior.
In case the Feds are reading this, I'm totally joking about all that the "killing/homicide" junk.
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