I just wanted my father back.
As the days after his death passed, and I began to plan for his funeral, I was in such a state of grief my body was surely affected. I wasn't eating- defiantly not the proper way to begin a pregnancy or to care for yourself when trying to conceive. But, honestly, I didn't think I was pregnant anyway.
I remember telling Fred, "If I am pregnant, I am worried all of this stress will cause me to miscarry." Fred said, "I'm worried about that too."
The visitation and funeral proceeded . Fred and I decided that since September 30th would have been my 28th day, and was also his birthday, we would take a pregnancy test that day if I had not started.
"It would be a nice birthday present," Fred said as he kissed my forehead.
The 30th arrived and Fred and I solidified a bet. Fred swore I was preggers, I knew I wasn't.
I won. I was $5 richer and a little more depressed.
It would have been nice to get the news in a way it would be as if this child was my Dad's way of saying he will live on with us.
My Dad didn't know we were trying- other four people do (us and my mother and step-father). With all my health problems we thought it best to keep it to ourselves. Part of me really wants to share it with everyone, but my medical conditions and the fact that we don't know how fertile or infertile we are, and when it comes right down to it, it is a very personal and private matter.
Four days later Fred hears back from his doctor that a fertility test he had taken when we were first married was actually not normal (no news is good news? yeah, not always). I had a feeling something might be up. I don't know how or why but I told him to call his doctor and double check on that test. Well low and behold everything was not normal and he needs to repeat the test to rule out an error at the lab.
Great.
I miss you Dad. I wish you were here to talk to about all of this. I just wish you were here.
No comments:
Post a Comment