Sunday, August 26, 2012

Lyla's Story - Part 1

I've been thinking about this post for a long time now, trying to decide exactly how I wanted to do it. I wanted to tell Lyla's birth story, but I don't think I can start there. I need to go back further. To tell Lyla's story, I have to start by telling my story - our story. The thing is, it means I'll have to open up about some things that continue to be a source of personal pain for me. I have been extremely hesitant about doing so and have shared just the most basic of facts about this situation with very, very few.

So, why would I open up about this on the internet? Well, for one, I want to record it for the future. I want Lyla to be able to read and know just exactly how much she was wanted. The reason for the open nature though, is that I hope to help others. As I was going through my darkest times, I would read about the experiences of others that were similar to mine and it was a great source of comfort. To know that others were and had felt what I was feeling was such validation. It also helped to read the expressions of feelings that I was still wrestling with on such an intense level that I had no idea how to express them myself. If I can do that for someone else, or even if I only help someone understand the struggles of another, it will be worth it.

Here goes nothing.

To tell Lyla's story I need to go back about three and half years. Allen and I had been married maybe a month or two when I started to feel little nudges here and there that we needed to start having kids. This was not the plan. The plan was to wait a year, then we would evaluate our situation and possibly start trying. Yet there it was again and again; the nagging thought in the back of my mind that the time was now. I tried ignoring it. It was a crazy thought. We had been married such a short time and had lived in separate states the entire time we dated and all through our engagement. Waiting was not being selfish, we NEEDED this time to adjust to each other before we threw someone else into the mix. Every time I had convinced myself of all of this though, I would get another little nudge.

The next part of the story is very special to me.  So special, and so wonderful that I just don't feel comfortable sharing it.  I won't risk doubt or derision from anyone.  It's mine.  Just mine.

So, suffice it to say that we were persuaded and decided that we would start down the path toward parenthood.  I threw out the birth control with giddy anticipation and fully expected to be pregnant within a month.  Two at most.  After all, that's how it always was with my mom so why should I expect any different?


As time passed and I got no clear signs from Mother Nature that I was NOT pregnant, I took it as confirmation that this was really happening.  So I ran out to the store, grabbed a pregnancy test, and rushed home to give myself the good news.  As I was driving to the store and back I couldn't stop my hopes from flying high.  "This is it," I thought to myself "the day I find out that I am going to be a mother!"  I wondered how I would tell Allen.  Would I do something big, or subtly leak the info?  Surely I wouldn't be able to keep it to myself for more than a day.  What would his reaction be?  I think every woman has the fantasy of telling the man she loves that she is carrying his child and sharing with him in the joy, wonder, and excitement of the moment.  This was going to be a day I would remember.  I just KNEW it.


I went into the bathroom, took care of business, and set the test on the side of the tub.  I didn't allow myself to even peek at it until the requisite 3 minutes were up.  S-L-O-W-L-Y I watched the minutes tick by on my phone.  Finally!  It was time!  Negative.  "What?"  I thought, "That can't be right."  I looked at the box, turned it over in my hands, scanned the little pamphlet of instructions looking for some kind of explanation.  I looked back at the test.  Still negative.  I was completely floored.  How could I not be pregnant AND not have that obvious indicator from my body?


I jumped on the computer and began searching for some kind of answer.  Turns out there are all sorts of ways to get a false negative.  Testing too soon, testing at the wrong time of day, a bad test.  Surely one of these things were the culprit.  I would wait a week and try again first thing in the morning.  Then I was sure to get my positive.  Nothing to worry about.  But somewhere, in the back of my mind, I did worry, and when Allen came home and asked what was wrong, I cried.  I believe some part of my spirit knew that this was the beginning of a long and difficult journey.  So even though it had barely begun, I let Allen hold me and kiss the top of my head, and I cried.

No comments: