Marking Time

May 9, 2013

Despite the fact that I always loved History, dates are not exactly my thing. I do a pretty good job of remembering birthdays and such but I typically pay less attention to other dates. Like anniversaries. Because of this I am likely to eventually forget exact dates of things that are painful – Like EDDs (Estimated Due Dates for those who don’t know) of lost pregnancies and death dates.

Given my propensity to forget these kinds of dates why does the universe choose to mock me by having them coincide with other dates or events that I DO remember (or am slapped in the face with)?

Pregnancy #1 – The Zombabies – We found out the pregnancy was ectopic on Right Guy’s birthday, which we spent in the ER. The EDD for that pregnancy? The day after Mother’s Day. This year, that date is today.

Pregnancy #2 – Tubaby – EDD was exactly one week before Father’s Day.

Pops’ death – He died the day before Father’s Day. Also, he and I had the same birthday.

astronomical clock, prague

Last year I tried like hell to reclaim Right Guy’s birthday and I think I did a decent job of creating new memories. I had spent his previous birthday away from him doing a long distance FET and was actually rather thankful not to have had to face that anniversary with him. So I tried to make up for that, and my body’s failure, last year. There’s hope for reclaiming that day.

As for my birthday, I’ve just decided to move it one day forward or backward each year – whichever is more convenient. That’s been working so far.

But Mother’s Day? And Father’s Day? Absolute shitstorms. Not only does it remind us of what we do not yet have, it’s also a reminder of all we’ve lost along the way.

Where are the holidays that remind you what you have right now?

Oh yeah, Thanksgiving. It’s a looong way off. And I always spent it with Pops.

Despite the negative tone of this post, I am not (yet) freaking out or despondent about the impending Mother’s Day. I don’t know whether that means I’m dealing with things better or if there will be a breakdown that comes out of nowhere.

It seems like infertility is all about time. Right now I just want to throw out all the clocks and all the calendars.

%d bloggers like this: