The other night as I was serving our vegetables up for dinner, my chest went wet and I thought, “How could I have spilled water over myself?”
As I peeled back my bathrobe it was soon plainly obvious that I had not spilled water. My breasts were leaking.
And considering I gave up breastfeeding some eight months ago, that was all a little odd.
I suddenly felt the urge to cry, and so I did, weeping loud enough into the tea-towel for Adam to hang up from a phone call to see what was the matter.
What I didn’t admit was what I was thinking about when my boobs gave my hormones away.
******
My obstitrician smeared the jelly over my stomach as he prepared for the ultrasound.
“Please tell me there’s only one baby in there,” I said, jokingly. Keira was sitting behind us in the pram, watching solemnly (even then) as she sucked her thumb.
My doctor waved the little magic wand around, stopped, took a screen shot and said,
“Well…actually…”
From then my life split from what could have been into what was to happen.
My pregnancy with Riley began as a twin pregnancy. On the screen, my doctor traced a circle with his finger around a shadow – a shadow I would’ve passed over as normal or as a ‘nothing’ – if it hadn’t been pointed out to me.
“This is the blighted ovum here which began development the same as the other foetus but for some reason stopped about…I’d say a week ago, judging from the size.”
Right. Breathe.
“You may bleed from this. Or you may not, your body may reabsorb the foetal tissues.”
He saw my face.
“This happens quite a lot, you know,” he said – I think – by way of consolation.
He then declared all else was ‘normal’ and sent me on my way.
I admitted it then and I’ll admit it now – I was a little relieved. Relieved all was well with the remaining baby and, yes, relieved there weren’t two. I mean, TWO! That meant I’d have three babies under two years of age. I have no family nearby. I couldn’t handle it!
Yes, I was sad – the real sadness was still to come, is still coming even now – but it was…bittersweet.
Sounds dreadful, doesn’t it? Please – don’t send me hate mail either screaming “You insensitive, stupid, selfish, horrible cow” because I’ve heard it all before. You see, I was naive enough to post my raw reactions up on a parenting board and those comments came, oh yes they did and for a time I was turned off ever publically expressing my feelings ever again (until this blog eventuated, at least).
So my own questionable feelings on this subject haunted me throughout the rest of what was quite a difficult pregnancy. Then, once Riley was born, I was too busy to think about it. But now, as we’re nearing the lovely two-year old mark and I see the kids run around the house I see the spectre of this mysterious, unknowable child occasionally peer around the corner. I wonder, who would she or he look like? Would they’ve been as joyous as Riley or as contemplative as Keira? Would they look like me?
I know these things ‘happen for a reason’. I wonder if I should’ve instead paid more mind to this cliche: ‘Be careful what you wish for.’
******
So now my breasts have decided to leak for no reason and have continued to do so since that night. So out of the ritualised moments of our domestic life, at any given time, I am reminded that the body’s hurts and longings and misgivings are never really atoned before our mental ones are.
I have no idea how long I will have to wait for some sort of mental recalibration.
Perhaps forever. Perhaps I asked for it. Perhaps it was doomed to be as soon as I made the joke about the ‘twin’ at the nine week ultrasound.
You see – Adam was a twin. But his twin didn’t make it either.
Why? Why do I say such stupid things in passing, in jest? It appears I am rather the moron. I should’ve known better.
But all fools say that after the fact, don’t they?
******
I am turning comments off today. I am also taking a day or two off. This has been difficult to write and doubly difficult to post.
