Giving up. The Very long beginning of a VERY long love story

We are constantly reminded that nothing good ever comes easy..
But the notion that nothing good comes without hard work gives us the false impression that just because we've worked very hard for something, we can never let it go. We can't give up something we've given so much to...


Long way around the story is this...

When we found out we were expecting, we were obviously overjoyed.
We started planning immediately.. should we move or just renovate? Should I look into starting a home daycare so I can stay home with the baby, or should I just find work and try to schedule myself for when Abe isn't working? Should Abe keep fighting, or is that bad for our dynamic?

We giggled as we waited for our ultrasound tech to come show us pictures of our tiny miracle.
We held hands as she poured the warm gel over my flat stomach and we both stared intently at the monitor...
The tech frowned. Reached her free hand up to stroke her own round, pregnant belly and pursed her lips.
Finally, she brightened and I breathed a bit easier.
"Ok dear.. do you see what I see on the screen?" She chirped..
I don't see anything....
"Exactly. It appears you have had a miscarriage. We'll give you some pills to help you expel the remainder of the failed pregnancy and you guys can talk with your doctor about when you can try again." She smiled and nodded her head enthusiastically. I felt Abe's hands shaking, but couldn't bring myself to tear my burning eyes from the screen. The empty screen..

Can we...? If I finished my sentence, I was going to cry. I wasn't ready to cry. I wasn't ready to be done being this baby's Mom.
I pointed at the *otherrrr* ultrasound device. The really invasive one.
She seemed a bit put off by my insistence, but acquiesced.
A moment of looking and she triumphantly announces her original assessment was correct.
I still can't look at Abe.
Instead, I continue to insist. I take matters into my own hands and position the device myself..

A moment later....
The tiniest kidney bean flashes across the screen.
Tiny.
If it wasn't the very face of hope and love, I might not have recognized it as a reason to stop.

That was our son.
Now I cried.
This tiny little bean was the reason our hands, sweaty and trembling, were still clinging for one another. He was the reason those hands would search for one another so many times over the next several months..

From that moment, I began to plan in earnest. We discussed baby proofing. What to do with our two 70 lb dogs. I did a real inventory of my diet to find I was only averaging about 1000 calories a day (before the morning sickness came... ) so I needed to revamp my intake.

And then I woke around 4am feeling odd.
My mind consoled.. it's just menstrual cramps. Don't worry.
A groggy trip to the bathroom would verify this and my sleepy mind brushed it off.
Once my head rediscovered the pillow, the weight of the situation began to bear down.
Menstrual cramps. I'm 4 months pregnant.
The contractions came for the next 2 days. Call after call to my doctor begging to know what I can DO... how can I make it stop?
He calmly.. sadly... told me all I could do was rest. Get some sleep. Drink plenty of fluids.

That's not a THING.. that's not DOING something. I will do 1000 pushups if you tell me my baby is ok.
I will read all of the books again. I will sing the national anthem. I will vacuum the dryer vent... but give me something I can DO that will fix this!

Just rest.

Abe sat beside me on the couch. He stared at me.. hoping he could make the baby feel loved enough to stay. He didn't speak except to tell our son that while we were excited to meet him.. not yet. Please not yet... I'm going to be such a good Dad, but you won't know if you don't stay! I'll buy you a bike! I'll teach you to play basketball.. I'll even let you win sometimes.. just don't go.

I rested like it was my job. Called all of my yoga clients and studios and told them I was under the weather and needed some time off.
Abe fed me like he was trying to insulate our son. If there is enough food in there, maybe he'll get lost and not be able to find his way out?

About a week later, we finally got the clear. He was safe. His heartbeat was strong. I needed to be more careful about physical activity and dehydration, but otherwise...

At this point, I began getting a lot of negative feedback. I was being told I wasn't happy enough about being pregnant. I was told I was too vain. I was told I was gaining too much weight... not enough.
I got to hear from 2nd sources about how I didn't deserve to have this baby.
How many people wanted babies and I wasn't even trying and one just got handed to me... and now I wasn't even happy about it.
I only tried once to discuss the truth of the matter to one of these people before giving up.
I didn't have the energy to waste on someone else's negativity. I haven't spoken with her since and I'm amazed at how little I feel the loss. How little pain it causes once you've lost respect for someones opinion. That was my first lesson in giving up something I had nurtured. Something I had loved...
It was going to be the first of many.

I decided to stop lifting. I always got a few scattered contractions when we bench pressed, so I put it away.
I cut my 5 miles a day down to 2. The summer was hot and I couldn't risk dehydration.

LockeYoga was really picking up.. in one week, I got 11 calls from brand new clients. As tired as my swelling body was, I had worked really hard to get to this point. Figuring early pregnancy fatigue was a fine thing to muscle through, I took client after client. Accepted a position at yet ANOTHER studio. Volunteered to teach a few scattered classes for an office full of very overworked caregivers.

During each class.. one or two contractions.
After... sporadic contractions for a few hours.

I asked my doctor if it was safe and he assured me it was not only safe, but incredibly good for my little one. Always happy to do what's best for him, I continued accepting positions.

At about 5 1/2 months.. the contractions changed. My belly would be completely flat for hours and I would sweat and sometimes see a few stars from the intensity.

Then I began to dilate.

The nurses at the doctors office said he would call me back. They never gave him the message. I called again. He was gone for the weekend. I called the on call doctor. His nurses assured he would call back. 8pm... they told me to go to the ER.

I was sent back to the couch for the weekend. Tears dripped off my chin for days and I couldn't eat because of the pain. Walking became a challenge.. not because of the discomfort, but because of my crippling fear that the upright position would make things worse.

Again, come Monday evening the pain had decreased significantly.

Those days on the couch forced me to truly examine my energy expenditure.

I have spent 4 hard years building LockeYoga.
In the early days, I missed my fair share of meals because of how tight money had become.
I had to rebuild my client base when a rival told several of my clients that my certification was fake. That I had injured a client. That I was overweight and unqualified to teach anything about a healthy lifestyle. Untrue as it was, people's faith in you is fickle and they moved on.
I stayed up nights designing programs to incorporate a wheel chair for a client with advanced MS.
I cried when, for the first time in 4 years, he stood behind his chair to hug me. The only standing he had done in that time was to move himself from the chair to the bed.. with the help of several rigged bars.
I struggled with a program for a girl with a severe spinal cord injury. A couple with Parkinson's. A mother with 3 children. An obese woman who only wanted to be able to one day paint her toenails again.

 



My several group classes comprised 50% of advanced yogis and 50% newcomers. Watching them shift in beautiful rhythm from a lunge into Goddess... hands to the ground and in unison fly into crow... Nobody knew who had never tried before, other than the giggles and cries of victory as they realized their body's true ability..

I thought of how much I had given to this thing I believed in so much... that had finally made me believe in myself.

I used my remaining time on the couch to make 2 online posts and about 2 dozen phone calls.

4 years. It took me 4 years to create something out of my investments, sweat, and passion.
It took me about 20 minutes to shut the whole thing down.

I stopped teaching in September. Completely stopped.

It only took me 5 minutes of knowing I was this perfect human's mother to know I would give up anything to know he was safe.
It took only an hour of being stubborn and forcing my body to submit to something it was resisting to realize how easily he could be taken away.

I have switched health care providers from our OB to an amazing midwife with an incredible support staff.
We have re-prioritized the people in our lives and therefore cut out a significant amount of negativity.
We have painted our nursery and spent hours jabbering at the fluttering mound that blocks my view of my toes.
We all want to believe in something, but we have to allow ourselves to accept it when it's in front of our eyes.
If we ever saw a real dragon... we would call it a lizard.
If we saw a fairy, we would know it was just a bug.
And the day I found faith again, when I found something to believe in- when I saw the face of love.. I only thought it was the face of my son peering back at me through a black and white screen.