Halfway through limbo

Thursday is the day.  

We had wanted the procedure to be sooner so that we could avoid prolonging this state of limbo we're in but that was the best anyone could do.  We had also wanted a specific hospital that's located on the NH/VT border because we NEVER go in that direction and were hoping to avoid the barrage of vivid memories that will surely come with passing by the hospital where this heartbreaking procedure will take place, but the earliest that hospital could get us in is Friday. On Friday I will be 20 weeks. Half-baked. I cannot be 20 weeks when this happens. I know it's only a difference of one day but it's important to me for this to be done at 19w6d and not at 20 weeks. Therefore, we will be going to a hospital in Boston that can get us in on Thursday. It's not the hospital we went to for our IVF, where our 3 precious frosties are currently stored, and where we will likely (hopefully) be back again some day for a FET (or two, or three), but it is still in the city. Hubs works in the city.  I know it's going to be hard on him every single time he drives in to work. He'll think about this every. single. time.

I feel like there's something we should be doing to get ourselves to a place where we're prepared for this day. I don't know how to be mentally/emotionally prepared or if that's even possible, but once it gets here there's no way to go back in time.  There's no way to have my little Petey Nugget back after that point.  We are being gentle with ourselves and each other, exploring our thoughts and feelings and trying not to block out the hardest parts, but I have this... hole inside me like there's something I should be doing, some portion of this I need to fully explore before the time comes. I just don't know what that is.  I think I need to figure out a way to say goodbye and truly be okay with it. At this point I don't feel like that could be possible though.

We've decided not to find out the sex.  We love our baby and are hoping that that's all we need to know.  If we were to find out after we've already said goodbye that it was a boy or girl we'd just torment ourselves with visions of firetrucks and baseball games, princesses and dance recitals.  We'd imagine all the things that should have happened but never will with our first child.  This way, we will only think of the dreams we've already dreamed for Petey, not every single thing our brains could convince us would have (should have) been real.

I read an article yesterday written by a woman who also had to terminate for medical reasons (TFMR - I hadn't realized there was a name for this) who stated that one of the things she learned from her experience is that "pregnancy is a gamble, not a guarantee".  That is certainly a difficult lesson I am learning as well.  In spite of all my initial apprehension after that BFP, I was still a happy naive pregnant woman who assumed that as long as we made it past the miscarriage 'danger zone', everything would be just fine. I started to become less and less afraid of something going wrong and as the weeks ticked on I got confident; cocky even.  I loved being pregnant. I was proud to show off my baby bump. I was proud we made it through IF and let myself feel like we paid our dues and deserved this. I started to only look forward to bringing home baby and began thinking of the pregnancy as just something to get through before we could hold him/her while gazing in amazement at what we created. Little did I know that these 19 weeks of pregnancy would be all I'd ever know with this baby.

Hubs and I decided we're going to plant a tree in our yard in Petey Nugget's memory. It will be something tangible to remember him/her by; something we can physically watch grow through the years, in place of watching our child grow. I hope that it will be enough. I hope it will comfort me to kneel by it, sit under it, and see it's strength as it grows and as I remember.

I'm very worried about the future. I'm worried about how we'll get through these next 4 days, I'm worried about Thursday and I'm worried about everything beyond that. I don't know how we'll get over this and move on.  I try to remind myself that this is hopefully the hardest time. That every day will get slightly better and slightly easier and though I'll never forget, I'll be able to be myself again someday. There's no way I can picture that yet but I hope that in a year I'll be able to come back to this post and think about how much things have changed since this moment.