Omens

"It's a sign!"

"You don't believe in signs."

          -Sleepless in Seattle

It's a big week over here.  First of all, looks like NYC is getting it's biggest snowfall of the season today.  The view from my window:

Allegedly we're getting 8 to 14 inches.  Right now it just looks windy and cold and gross.  

Back when I had my miscarriage last June, I, like a lot of women I know, decided I wanted to do something to commemorate our bean.  One of the recommendations I had read was the get a piece of jewelry that will be representative of the loss.  There are a lot of vendors on Etsy who specialize in pregnancy loss jewelry, and while they were lovely, I wanted to get something that was a) not religious at all; and b) that no one would know from looking at it what it meant.  I also wanted something I could wear every single day.  So, I didn't want a necklace.  I'm more likely to wear a ring every day, and while I was trolling around Etsy, I stumbled across the idea of forget-me-nots.  Forget-me-nots are little pretty flowers that symbolize enduring love.  I liked that idea.  So I found Taylor, who makes awesome forget-me-not jewelry (and other stuff too) out of silver and colored, treated paper.  I picked out this ring.

I wear it everyday.  I get a lot of compliments on it, and I like that Jeeves and I know what it represents, but we don't have to explain it to anyone else.  It's our private memorial to our lost bean.  

The thing about this ring is that while you can wash your hands with it on, Taylor recommends that you remove it when washing dishes.  Last week while I was at Dad's, I took it off to wash some dishes, put it on a shelf, and promptly forgot to put it back on..... until I was on the bus back to NYC.  Obviously the ring is fine and safe and it's not that big of a deal.  It's just that the timing sucks.

This Friday, January 24th, was my estimated due date for the bean.  I'm not going back to Dad's till next Monday.  Which means I won't have the ring with me on the bean's due date.  It's weird to think about that due date, when I have Manuji squirming around inside of me.  It's weird to think about how much harder Dad being in the hospital would have been if I had been a giant 8+ months pregnant lady.  It's weird to think about how a snowstorm like this would have freaked me out if I were about to give birth any day now.  And it's weird to think about how I wouldn't have all these new friends because I never would have started blogging again if I were about to have a baby.  It's bittersweet.  I told Jeeves that leaving the ring at Dad's made me so sad because it was all we have left of him or her, and I was stupid and forgot it and of all the days you want to have something tangible to remember someone by, it would be a birthday.  Jeeves reminded me that it wasn't all we have - that we have our memories of the time I was pregnant, of how happy we were for those few weeks, and how we couldn't believe our good luck.

I don't feel lucky to have had a miscarriage.  But I think that pregnancy reaffirmed for us what we were doing and why.  It reminded us of how badly we wanted to be parents.  And those few weeks of happiness sustained us through the sad months ahead.

But there's more to it than that.  This Thursday is our follow-up ultrasound to determine if Manuji has club feet.  I am nervous.  And I wondered if it was a bad omen that the scan is a) the day before the bean's due date; and b) that I forgot the damn ring at Dad's.

I realize this is all probably a bit silly.  I, like Meg Ryan in Sleepless in Seattle, don't believe in signs.  Or do I?  I don't know.  Sometimes I think I do.  What about that fortune cookie I got right before my miscarriage was confirmed?  That felt like a sign.

So, speaking of signs, last Thursday Jeeves was doing laundry and while we were watching TV and he was folding his many, many socks and undershirts, he found this:

It's a baby sock.  Not ours.  Must have been left behind in one of the machines he used and he scooped it out.  "Maybe it's a sign!"  I yelled when I saw it.  "That everything is okay with his feet!"  Then I paused.  "Or maybe a sign that everything is not okay with his feet?"  Anyway, we decided to keep the sock for now, just in case.

In many ways, I have decided to just accept that Manuji has club feet even though we really have no idea either way.  Right now, it's easier to accept that bad piece of news and be prepared for it on Thursday.  It will not be fun, but it can be corrected and if he has club feet it doesn't change how much we love him or how happy we are to have him or how lucky I think we are.  I am trying to prepare myself for how much the doctors are going to try to scare us that club feet could signal something much, much worse.  And I'm not allowing myself to think about all of the other horrible things it could be.  That way lies ruin, and there's just no point in it.  I am repeating my old infertility treatment mantra: "Don't be scared.  You're going to be scared, so when you start to feel scared, don't be scared."

Positive vibes and prayers are super welcome right now, and I really appreciate all the support.  Whatever happens, whether the omens are good or bad or just exist in my crazy head, we'll get through the week and deal with whatever happens.