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Well, the holidays are hitting head-on in complete disregard of my efforts to avoid them. The only gifts that I've wrapped are the baskets purchased by my customers. The few red, green, silver, and gold items that adorn our house were placed by my husband. I have baked nothing. Still, here it is.
Earlier in the month, I actually felt a bit of freedom from the gloom as this was my first holiday season without the tremendous increase in stress from social work. I had only my needs and those of my loved ones to care about; no searching for food, shelter, and toys for others in dismal situations. With an extra burst of energy, I actually had fun creating different ways of wrapping the items that I had sold, and I surprised myself with my own handiwork. Then my in-law's visited.
I love my in-law's; I'm lucky in that respect. In the short time that my husband and I have been together, it's become sort of a tradition for some of them to visit us "down here" during the first part of December. It works out nicely for everyone -- they miss the worst part of the travel season, and we still have time to enjoy our holiday as a couple. This season is completely different, of course. By now, I should've either had a child or be pregnant still.
While we heard some very thoughtful condolences, there was no real discussion about the babies. We all focused on doing the holiday things -- seeing the lights and houses, eating out, and then the dreaded shopping. I was already feeling a little out of sorts, like I had lost a limb and was trying to adjust, when Jim's parents took us into a giant shopping center. The noise, the confusion, the crowd, were all too much for me. I could almost feel my nerve ends tingling when we entered the store, and I managed to hold it together for a good half hour before retreating to the snack area to sit and wait for the others. Jim retrieved me and as soon as he and I exited the place, I burst into tears. People glanced at me as they walked by with their purchases; I felt like an embarassed, blithering basket-case.
Jim later explained to his parents that I was a bit down this season, and of course, they were understanding. Things went a little quieter during the rest of the visit, and there was even a little talk about the babies. After my in-laws returned home, I dared not enter another shopping area.
Throughout all of this, we gained some new information from the tests that the doctor ran in November: I have something called the antithyroid antibody, and it most likely is the cause of our losses. Incredibly, it is treatable; unfortunately, the treatment involves daily injections once we conceive again. The news that there is no mystery involved here is a relief; that there is a treatment, a blessing. Still, I no longer feel like a whole person -- falling apart emotionally in public, having some sort of physical defect which causes miscarriage, feeling my body change as a result of my two brief pregnancies.
I wonder at times if Jim feels like he lost the lotto when he chose me for a mate. At any rate, he and I both agree that this has been one of the worst years of our lives, and things can only get better from here. We are anxiously awaiting the death of this year and the birth of the new.
© Tracy Morris
