I have seen a lot of zeros in my life.
Zero checking account balance.
Zero sick days.
You get the point. Zero is only a GOOD thing once every six months when the ophthalmologist informs me there are zero inflammatory cells in my eyes. These are good days. They are days that fill me with hope and leave me confident that my sight will stick around for the next six months.
Today I got another zero – zero beta test. Five agonizing weeks after my D&C and my HCG is finally at zero. I’m officially not pregnant.
This makes me happy as it means my body is healing. It means the burst of energy I felt during the last few days is not just a fluke. At the gym on Tuesday I increased my weights. I completed a full set of 20 pound bicep curls – the most weight I have ever curled (don’t laugh). I increased my prone leg curls. I upped my crunches. I added a 20 lb barbel to my squats. I left the gym and bicycled home. Yesterday I went to yoga and I rocked through the practice in an extremely hot studio. I am feeling BETTER. So much better that I hope that to have relations with Mr. Husband this weekend and not be overwhelmed by thoughts of dead babies.
Oh shit, dead babies. There is the catch – I’m no longer pregnant. My body may feel better but the truth remains; my baby is gone. Stripped from my uterus with the vaginal equivalent of a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Dead.
Even though this P.I.P., this Person in Progress, was doomed from the moment it fertilized, it still spent time with me. In me. And now is gone.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is a very difficult concept to stomach. No matter how many bicep curls I do, how many miles I bike or how beautifully my yoga flows, my baby will not be back.