Truth Be Told

I really must apologize for the sparse posting lately. It has been a busy few weeks. The Pop Shop opens for the season tomorrow, and in the off-season, I moved into a (much) smaller space. It's taken many (wo)man hours to get this puppy in shape. (Thanks, mom!). I've been hanging curtains 50 inches above my head and painting dumpster furniture, but I know it will all pay off once all my favorite little kiddos come visit me for another great year of Popping It Like It's HOT! Did you hear that Hip Pops was voted one of Athen's Favorite Local Businesses?! Thanks, Athens!

A friend of mine and I were joking about how blogs always present only the best version of a person - the recipes that turn out right, the 'after' of a design project, the cute outfit, etc. She was joking that she wants to start a blog that talks about how her mom drinks too much scotch and her thighs rub together (which for the record, mine do, her's don't. She's that annoying freak of nature that is 10x skinnier after having a baby). So, in honor of being honest, I wanted to share the not normally blog-worthy events of Fonty house lately. 
On New Year's Day, I found out I was pregnant for the first time. We were overjoyed. From the beginning, I had some hiccups, so we wanted to wait to tell our families until we knew everything looked like it was moving in a positive direction. At 6 weeks, we saw a teeny tiny heartbeat flashing on the ultrasound, and it seemed that Baby Fonty wasn't just a wish anymore, but a real, little alien in my belly. 

With much fan fare, we shared our news with 4 future uncles and 2 sets of first time grandparents - my parents actually found out that we were expecting and my brother got engaged on the same day! Everything seemed to be perfect, even down to the due date which would have been the weekend we met, 7 years later.

I was obviously anxious, but excited more than anything for our 10 week ultrasound. In hindsight, I should have been listening to my body. I knew something wasn't right, but didn't want to be Negative Nancy. However, our worst fears were about to come true. Shortly after beginning, the ultrasound tech stopped, looked at us, and said this was the part of her job that she hated as she left the room to get the doctor. Even if she hadn't said a word, exactly what had happened was written all over her face. We sat there for what felt like an eternity before the doctor came in and told us what we already knew; the baby had stopped growing and there was no heartbeat. I had miscarried.

The next few days are a blur of decisions of what to do and the business of losing a baby. I know many women go through this, many with much tougher situations than ours. We are actually lucky that my body did nature's work, but it still hurts. 
I've heard (and believe) every positive, 'life goes on' line. I know everything I was told about how a miscarriage is not my fault. It was a baby who wouldn't have developed properly, and this is my body's was of taking care of it naturally. I know my body is fine, and I will probably go on to have many healthy babies, and this will be a distant memory when I am chasing a toddler around the house. But that doesn't change the fact that we lost our first baby. It won't erase from my memory the sad face of the ultrasound tech when it registered what happened. It doesn't mean that our families stopped celebrating their first grandchild and started consoling their children. The pain isn't just ours, it's shared with our entire family.
Even weeks later, I am surprised at how sad I still feel about the way things turned out. Waves of sadness hit me out of nowhere. The one word I keep coming back to is: Robbed. I feel robbed that we will never have the innocent, blind excitement of a first pregnancy. Robbed that my plans for this fall won't include sleepless nights from a newborn or holidays criss-crossing the country with a festively dressed infant. Robbed that I am no longer carrying a baby, and we have to start all over. 
Of course too, when something like this happens it feels like everyone else can sneeze and pregnant. I mean, really, watching a former meth-head become a mother or Kim Kardashian and Kanye West expecting a publicity baby is just comical at this point. (Have you seen Kim's comments about what a fashionista Kanye is, and how they will have custom clothes made for their child? Barf. The Kimye spawn will never be Suri Cruise)  

Since it was early, not many people knew about the pregnancy. But the outpouring of love from our friends during this time was unbelievable. It's amazing what a supportive text message - or access to a NetFlix account - can do to let you know you're loved. Thanks everyone for the support! I know this will all get easier, and hopefully we'll be announcing a healthy Baby Fonty very soon.