One Year: What Can Change, What Can’t Change


This is the kind of thing that I resist on a daily basis. I work at a university but I work in the foodservice part of that and this picture is from a recipe testing from our bakery. If it’s not this, it’s literal non-stop product samples, work lunches, or event dinners. I’ve been turning this stuff down (with my fair share of slips) since January and at this point it’s not even hard. Instead, I asked a coworker to eat three things and tell me how they tasted. Hah! And for the record, the reason why I turned these down are because of gluten, dairy, and refined sugar. Not calorie control.

One year ago tomorrow we found out our baby no longer had a heartbeat. I remember when the ultrasound tech told me, I said, “I know.” I did already know. I would go on to naturally miscarry four days later. That was the hardest time in my marriage, not just because of the miscarriage, but because my husband and I both completely unraveled and I wanted to destroy everything around me. One year later and we have a diagnosis, a treatment plan, some IVF consent forms to sign this afternoon, a little hope. I am 50 pounds lighter than I was one year ago, but I am, more importantly, healthier than I’ve probably ever been in my life. Not in the best shape, no, that was when I was in high school and ran for miles a day, but drank sugary soda and ate pasta as my only food group. But I have learned to care for my body and health for the sake of my future children.

Last year when I was probably 6 weeks pregnant, a woman I work with announced she was pregnant. She was 4 weeks pregnant, like she’d literally just missed a period and peed on a stick. She was 38 years old with two kids and this was a surprise baby. She’d had some surgery that made her have only a 20% chance of conceiving, her doctor told her. And then she just announced it like it was a sure thing, a done deal, she’d be having this baby. Here I was, further along, with ultrasound pictures, but already sure we would lose it. I hadn’t told anyone at work. Her baby was born three weeks after my due date. He is four months old now. He was in the office the other day and everyone was saying he was big for his age so I kept imagining maybe my daughter would have been that size. I couldn’t even look at him. I was in my boss’s boss’s office, working on something with them, while my boss’s boss’s assistant was holding the baby, and every time he made a noise they all stopped and looked and “aww”-ed . They probably thought I was a cold witch. The thing is, two of these people know vaguely about my history (because my ectopic pregnancy made me miss three days of work a few years ago, and because during this particular miscarriage last year I broke down crying at work. Also, my boss’s boss experienced infertility and pregnancy loss himself because his wife has endometriosis. It’s hard for me that they don’t think of how things may affect me, but I don’t blame them either.


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