6 Times

Hey you. I love you. I've been thinking about you a lot lately (nothing new about that though!). Life has been pretty good. Not much to report actually. But as it usually goes, when things are going well and/or "normally" I am reminded once again that I am SOOOOOOOO far from being normal.

Today I was signed up to give blood here at work so I headed over for my appointment. I was making small talk with the young guy who was doing my interview and was being silly of course, because silly is about all I do. He was asking me all of the questions I had remembered answering at previous donations and then he asked me a question that I had never answered before giving blood in the past.

He asked me how many times I had been pregnant.

I said 6 times.

He was obviously shocked and said wow.

I said yeah but only two of them are alive.

He looked sad and apologized.

I told him it was ok and that was just my luck.

Yes, I fully realize that is not the socially acceptable way to respond in that situation, but I don't think there is an acceptable way. I couldn't lie about the number of pregnancies I have had. I couldn't let the dude think I had six kids at home. And I couldn't let him feel horrible about asking a question that is required of him by his job.

So, I have been thinking a lot since then and although I feel bad about making him feel bad...it makes me feel worse than it makes him feel, that I can guarantee. Who wants that to be their story? Who wants to be the lady who - holy crap - has been pregnant 6 times and of those 6 pregnancies four of them are dead? NOT ME! But that's Sara. That's who I am. *sigh*

I would say "Oh what I wouldn't give to have all of them here with me" but I can't fathom that either. I have never wanted six children. I have only ever wanted two. So, if I had any of your three siblings that were miscarried I wouldn't have your big sister. And if I had you, I wouldn't have your little sister. But I wouldn't ever wish you and your miscarried siblings away either. So instead, I sit here and dwell on the thought of the poor blood donation guy who was subjected to my short, yet more-information-than-he-ever-wanted rant regarding the number of times I had been pregnant. *sigh*

Why is my life so complicated? Why can't I live in the land of oblivion that so many others live in? Yes, most days I am ok. Yes, most days I can go through my day and just think happy thoughts about you. And yes, the majority of the time I do operate in a fairly "normal" manner. But then there are they days when I am asked about pregnancies. And there are the days when I see the pinwheels spinning in our garden and just smile but then there are days when those same pinwheels make my stomach churn. It's no wonder I'm not normal. It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone that Sara is one of the quirkiest dang people on the planet.

I am comfortable in my own skin, Carter. I really am. But it isn't really all that fun to be the poor lady whose babies have died. And that is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I will live with it each time I give blood. I will live with it each time someone asks me how many kids I have. And for as long as I live I will be a baby-loss-mom and that sucks.

I love you little one. Take care up there and send your mommy some extra love today please!