Monday, March 4, 2013

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. 


  1. oh Cattan, I'm so sorry. What a horrible experience to go through. Sending lots of love, prayers and happy thoughts your way

  2. You are so brave and strong to share this with everyone on your blog. You are so right that what we write usually touches on the "best" of life and does not show the reality of it. Your post is so touching and I am so sorry you had to go through this.
    ps: the shop looks great xo

  3. That's what I have always loved about you, and your blog-you are so real and don't pretend to have a perfect life like some other blogs writers do! Writing this will probably help someone that is going through the exact same thing. I can't imagine the pain you are feeling. Thinking about you xoxo

  4. This post is incredible, just like you. I could not agree more with you that we need to share the good and the bad. No one's life is perfect and wanting to be so is how we get into trouble in the first place. My husband has a quote, he uses often, which I love. Whenever something goes against what is planned or hoped for, he says "This is just part of our story. It's not the end, it's just a page or chapter." Looking back, it might not be your favorite part of the story, but it makes you who you are. Both yourself and as a family. Thanks for being an inspiration!

  5. Thanks for sharing Melissa. Love you and George and hate that y'all are going thru this. You are just as wonderful of writer as a person. I think this is very well put of what so many of our friends and family went thru and are still dealing with. I am going to share and know it will make many mammas and future mammas feel better.

  6. Dear Melissa,
    Because of Facebook, I got this blog post. I want to offer my sincere sympathy. I won't go through my long saga of trying to have a child in this public forum but just want you to know that there are so many others in all stages of life who recognize the pain and loss you are experiencing. The result of my long saga is your friend, Molly and her brother Sean. I don't doubt this joy will come to you but there will always be an ache in your heart for this lost child and that is to be respected and honored.