It’s been hiding, crumpled into the smallest ball and shoved to the very back of my sock drawer. It’s been there since my 3rd or 4th BFN of TTC#2. Like an idiot, I bought it before we even started. After reading so many stories of IFers getting pregnant accidentally, without even trying, I was sure we’d follow suit if we actually put some effort into it. By the fourth month of failure, that dream had died and part of my ritual of laying it to rest was stuffing that stupid thing into the deepest recesses of my sock drawer. You see, I almost never wear socks and there I was guaranteed not to see it.
It was a shirt, with a cute little yellow giraffe that said, in a cutsie font, I’M GOING TO BE A BIG SISTER. It was sized 2T.
Isa was only 18 months old when we started but she was big, and I thought it was smart to get the larger size, just in case. Through all the months of trying, and failing to get pregnant, it was a huge relief that the shirt was a size bigger than I should need. That extra size gave me time.
And then it was the right size, and then, as my daughter quickly out grew her 2T clothes, I knew it would be too small. At that point it didn’t much matter, as our diagnoses pretty much guaranteed we wouldn’t need any big sister shirts any time in the near future.
Except then we DID get pregnant, and suddenly I had reason to fish that crumpled shirt out from the deep, dark recesses of my sock drawer.
I didn’t look at it during the first trimester. It’s not that I thought I might jinx the pregnancy by pulling it out, it just didn’t make much sense to do so if Isa wouldn’t be wearing it. We’d told our parents over phone early in the pregnancy and we wouldn’t be announcing it to anyone else for a while. I considered using it for a Facebook announcement but I didn’t really give it all that much thought.
A couple of days ago I finally pulled out the “I’m going to be a big sister” shirt in 2T. It was buried so far back in my sock drawer that it took me a moment to find it. The moment I had it out I knew it was way too small. That collar would never accomodate my daughter’s 98th percentile head. The shirt would never be worn.
I wasn’t all that disappointed. That shirt had become a symbol of our struggles to get pregnant again, of our secondary infertility. After our diagnoses I never really expected to use it anyway and as it came to symbolize our struggle, the money wasted was the furthest thing from my mind.
Recently I decided it was time to announce our pregnancy on Facebook. I know I’m only 15 weeks (and that is on the accelerated EDD timeline) but honestly, I won’t be able to keep a late term miscarriage to myself anyway so I might as well tell people now. When it became clear I couldn’t use the shirt, I decided I wanted to do some kind of photograph announcement. I found something I liked on Pinterest and after stressing that any execution of the idea would be, well, douchey, I started to execute my plan. Quickly, I figured out a way to include our struggle in some way, because that was important to me; the last thing I want to do is side swipe someone on Facebook with my good news.
This morning the following will be up on FB, for better or for worse. I hope it doesn’t hurt anyone. Maybe it will even bring someone hope. The horrible thing about Facebook is I’ll probably never know.
What do you think? Is it tasteful and sensitive enough? I sure hope so. (And I thank my amazing friends who assured me it was okay. I might not have had the courage to post it without your support.)