One of the things that is so weird about a pregnancy loss, especially (I think) if you don't have other children, is how strange it is to go back to your normal life. I think about how there were times, before June, when I was happy. Lots of times. Jonathan and I did all kinds of fun stuff. But then we were coming to live from the trajectory of not being pregnant, and not ever having been pregnant.
Then I was pregnant.
And now, I am not pregnant again, but I'm coming at it from the trajectory of having been pregnant. So it's all completely different now.
It's still J and I, like it always has been. But nothing is different. And yet everything is different. It's a complicated mind-blowing physics experiment - measuring the everything/nothingness rate of change in our lives now. The only physical changes are a drawer full of newborn clothes I bought, the cheap heart rate monitor and Burt's Bees Mama Bee belly rub. That's pretty much it. Oh, and a breast pump from when my milk came in. So four physical differences. And yet nothing is the same at all.
I'm thinking about it because I was cleaning out my closet and came face to face with a bunch of my maternity clothes. I'm such a dope - I bought a whole fall/winter pregnancy wardrobe. Even if I got pregnant today, I wouldn't need pregnancy clothes until March or so, so all these heavy sweaters will go unworn. Lesson learned. Only buy as you need. The books say that, but I didn't listen. I decided it would be a good deal to order a ton and combine shipping to save money. Silly me.
I sure hope I can wear these preggo jeans again soon. I wonder how many women are pining for maternity clothes right now? Yearning for elastic. Because elastic equals pregnancy. At least in my equations. Ahh, beautiful Motherhood pregnancy jeans that are getting slightly frayed at the ankle, I will wear you again soon, I hope.