Saturday

I was laying in bed earlier thinking how I was going to come in here and post about how crazy and different my mind works during different times of the month... how if I'm bleeding or about to bleed, I'm very emotional and a bit irrational and how when I'm just done bleeding I'm pretty fucking happy and content.

But instead of coming in here and writing that, I checked my email and found one sitting there from a friend of a friend whom I haven't heard from since I got my BFP. I didn't tell her I got my BFP so I didn't ever have to tell her about the D and C. So she didn't know anything... but her email to me told me something: she's pregnant. 12 weeks today.

And the news of her pregnancy and her exhaustion and her nausea stung me.

Goddamnit why can't I just be happy for people?!?!

And then instead of coming here and posting, I go to a message board I frequent and see a pic of a newborn baby that one of the girls just had and all these wonderful posts to her about being a mom and .... once again .... I just lost it and instead of out and out crying like the little whiny bitch that I am these days, I finally came here to write.

But then my husband heard me typing away and asked if there was something I wanted to talk about and I said NO. Because I really don't. I HATE feeling like this. I HATE feeling ... jealousy or whatever the fuck it is because someone else is having a good pregnancy or because someone else just became a mom.

Instead of taking believing me when I said NO, he came in here and saw that I was crying and hugged me and wouldn't let go. So I let it alllllllllll out to him. His shoulder caught all my tears and snot as I just let it all out. Every bit of it. And I cried and cried while he just continued to hug me.

I feel a little better now.

But is this what it's going to be like until I become a mom? Because if it is, I think I might totally lose my fucking mind first.

Unexpected

It's funny how you can spend time thinking how you might react to something if it were to happen and then when it happens, you react in a completely different way - or in a way that surprises you.

When I POAS last Friday and clearly got only one line, I wasn't really upset or anything. I wasn't really... anything...if that makes sense. I just accepted it and moved on and had no real thoughts about it. It is what it is, after all.

Moments ago, however, I just went to the bathroom and when I wiped, I saw pink on the tissue. Apparently the gates are opening and AF is deciding to visit now - three days before my birthday. Why not, right?

Anyway, when I saw the pink and then looked at my panties and saw a blurry smudgy spot of red/brown, my heart practically sank and tears immediately formed in my eyes.

And as I type this, I'm finding it almost hard to breathe as the tears fall out of my eyes.

One after the other.

I wasn't expecting this reaction whatsoever.

I can't stop crying.

It's like it's really real now. Yesterday I was reminded of the D and C when I got the bill for it. Today I get my period.

It really did happen.

I was pregnant one day... not so long ago.

I was really going to become a mom finally.

For four weeks, it became more and more real that life was growing inside me and I was finally going to become the mom I've wanted to become for so, so long.

And then one day, the doctor told me there was no more hope for growth. The doctor told me he was 100% sure it was over.

Just like that.

After 7 months of trying to get pregnant... it was all over.

And the next day I had the surgery.

And now, 34 days later, I'm finally menstruating.

And the tears flood my eyes again.

:(

I just truly was not expecting this sort of reaction.

Letting it all out there

So here goes: I'm putting it all out there in the next 50 minutes I have before S comes home. I've been holding back for some time now because I know there are some dear, dear people who read this blog who I don't want to offend or upset in any way... but the fact of the matter is that this is my blog and it was created to help me heal.

And I still need to heal.

I'm very sad. It only seems to get worse than better. I swear to god that I was OK two weeks ago. I was OK with what happened... with what had to happen. But every day seems to get worse and worse and worse and I'm not sure how to handle it.

It's not like I can't get up in the morning and go to work. It's not like I can't laugh at things and be goofy... it's just there are moments. A lot of moments throughout the day when I feel... empty.

There it is - that fucking word I hate so much. That word I've fought so hard to never enter my vocabulary again. Empty.

I hate what that word means when it's used to describe the way someone feels. To me, there's nothing worse than feeling empty.

It's almost as bad as not feeling like there's any hope left.

But there is always hope.

Thankfully.

But yeah, the emptiness. I haven't felt the emptiness in a long, long time - at least 10 years or so and I've really worked hard to not go down that road again.

But lately, I've had moments of emptiness and it's been scary.

And the anger. By god the anger is gaining control of me... talk about scary! I try so hard each and every day to smile and to laugh - to find anything to smile and laugh at or about. I try and I usually succeed.

But then there are those fucking moments when the anger and/or the emptiness gets a hold of me and doesn't want to let go.

I almost feel like I'm suffocating at times...


Just before hopping on here to blog, I was talking to S on the phone - he's on his way home from work and I was calling to let him know I was home. I was looking for batteries for the cordless keyboard and asked if he knew where they were. He didn't. I told him that I *needed* to blog - and blogging is something we rarely discuss.

He said, "I wish you would talk to your husband instead of the computer."

And I did. I broke down. I started crying and I told him how I guess I wasn't over the miscarriage, that I wanted to be pregnant and excited and nervous; I told him that I was sad, incredibly sad and that I was angry; I told him that I needed the batteries so that I could blog, that I didn't want to talk to him about it because - in all honesty - I'm not sure what the fuck is wrong with me; I told him that I *guess* it's all because of the loss.

But I have no clue.

I just know that I can't stand to read about pregnancies... a lot of the pregnancies I'm reading about are my own friends' pregnancies. And I'm so incredibly happy for them... but I can't stand to fucking read about it anymore. I can't stand it. The baby names, the clothes not fitting, the baby showers, the backaches, the ultrasounds, the heartbeats. I can't do it anymore. I can't be excited for them anymore.

And I can't stand myself for not being able to be excited for them.

And then there's the pregnant ladies. I swear to fuck they are everywhere. And the kids. Babies and kids and baby bumps EVERYFUCKINGWHERE I turn.

I can't stand it anymore because I so pathetically and desperately want it to be my turn.

I so appreciate everyone telling me stories about people they know - or they themselves - who've gone through a miscarriage (or more) and have also had healthy pregnancies. I really and wholeheartedly appreciate this more than words can say because I know they don't want me to give up and they want me to know that there is still hope.

And I agree.

But I also know that time is not on my side.

While I'm not ancient, I'm not 25 anymore. I don't have time to have another two miscarriages before the doctors start looking more into what happened. I don't have time!! Yes, I probably will get pregnant and it will probably be healthy... BUT WHAT IF I DON'T OR WHAT IF THIS HAPPENS AGAIN?! Can you tell me that? What the fuck happens if I don't get knocked up for another year or two. I'm turning 36 in three weeks. I don't have any other children. This is it, people!! Don't you fucking understand that this is my ONLY opportunity?!?

Even the fucking doctor acts like it's not a big deal... and I get it. I do. Because, again, chances are pretty darn great that I *will* get pregnant again and it *will* be a healthy pregnancy and I *will* become a mom... but there is NO guarantee of that.

And by god, I'm sick of being positive about everything. I'm fucking SICK OF IT!


My head hurts. It fucking hurts because I'm crying like a little bitch and I can't fucking stand it.

And listen to my language ... or read it. How can a someone who wants to mother so fucking bad, write like this?

I'm pathetic.

And I'm tired.

And I need to take a shit.

God, maybe S was right... maybe I am just PMSing.

But I don't really cry like this when I'm PMSing.

That's why I think I'm not over it. Or something.

Gah, I need to end this for now... S just called so I have to go move the car anyway.

Closing a chapter

So my follow-up D and C appointment... UGH!

In all honesty, I've been doing OK in regards to the missed "abortion" and losing the baby - for the most part, at least. Sure I have my moments, but I've been able to get up in the morning and go to work and do my job and whatever else... Granted, I've noticed that I'm angrier than before - at any and every little thing - but I suppose that's all par for the course.

I didn't know quite what to expect from today's appointment, but I had hoped for a couple of things NOT to happen: I didn't want any more blood drawn, any more vaginal exams, any more ultra sounds, and I really didn't want to see any happy pregnant couples in the waiting room. I pretty much figured I was safe with everything but the vaginal exam and the happy couples.

After I signed in to the receptionist and took a seat, I could see that there was indeed a happy couple in the waiting room. Just me, them, the TV and the receptionist. Thank god for the TV! I tried so hard not too look at them because the fact of the matter is that there's NO REASON they shouldn't be happy! And there's no reason I need to be getting upset because of someone else's happiness!

But it was hard. They were happy. Really, really happy. She had an ultrasound picture in her hand, and a little bump already forming in her lap. He also had another ultrasound picture, and the biggest smile on his face. And that's what I saw from my peripheral vision as I tried to study the TV! Then I noticed some extra movement and as much as I tried to focus on the news from the TV, I couldn't help but notice what the movement was: the baby daddy was so happy he leaned over, rubbed his woman's belly and then kissed the belly.

It was one of the most sweetest things I've seen in a long time and while it brings a tear to my eye right now, when it happened it actually made me feel better instead of worse. They were happy. Really, really happy. And they were going to be having a baby!

Soon after the sweet moment, an obvious pregnant woman walked in. I say obvious because her bump was definitely a bump and not just a fat, beer belly. Plus she stood with her hand holding her back... and we all know the toll a women's back can take during pregnancy. :)

The nurse called to the obvious pregnant woman and took her back into the office.

The happy parents-to-be still sat gleaming with joy against the wall.

Another woman strolled in. This time, it wasn't obvious if she was with child or not. She said something to the receptionist and the receptionist said the same thing she said to me in return, "This is just a follow up from the surgery, right?"

My heart sank for her. She was there for the same reason I was.

Finally my name was called and I followed the nurse directly into one of the doctor's offices rather than stopping for my weight like my most recent appointments... back when I was pregnant. And rather than take my blood pressure, she opened a drawer and took out a paper cover up and told me the doctor needed me to get undressed from the waist down.

Fuck, I thought but instead said, "For real?"

She looked at me and said, "Yes." And I could see the empathy in her eyes. And I realized how incredibly difficult their jobs must be at times.

I took off my shoes and pants and fought back the tears all while saying "Fuck" quietly several times. I hoisted my fat ass onto the fucking table and waited.

The doctor came in and I was elated to see that it was my doctor again! He wasn't the cold and matter of fact doctor he was three weeks ago, he was back to the warm and open and informative doctor I chose to be "the one" to examine my Secret Garden all those years back.

He asked how I was doing and if there was any heavy bleeding or cramping.

"Not since the end of that weekend," I replied. "But I have had spotting almost every day."

He told me that was all to be expected but as long as it wasn't real heavy bleeding or cramping and as long as I wasn't screaming in pain during the exam - which he did while he told me this - then all was good.

He told me they send out the "pregnancy tissue" - for which he hesitated saying - to ensure that it comes back as "pregnancy tissue" and not say "intestine", or something. Mine came back "pregnancy tissue" so that was good (I was pregnant!) and made me chuckle because of his delivery of it.

And with that, he was done with the exam and said, "So I guess this means that - if you're ready - you can start trying again."

"I'm not sure if you given that any thought," he continued.

"We have," I said and before the words came out, the tears welled. "We decided," I continued, swallowing the tears, "to start again right away."

He seemed almost happy. And he went on to tell me about how it may take a little while still before the hormone levels go back down, before I ovulate, before things all get back to "normal" but that it shouldn't take more than six months.

He asked if I had questions and I asked that if, nope WHEN we get pregnant would the same things happen again or would they treat me differently. He told me that they really don't start looking more into the why's behind miscarriages until the third miscarriage, and that if they think something may not be going well with a pregnancy, they start taking the hormone levels (hCG).

"So you don't *always* start with the blood tests?" I asked.

"Not unless we can't clear up things on the ultrasound."

And that's when the past three weeks became as clear as a crystal fucking ball to me. The Doc was not his usual, warm and informative Doc that I always liked three weeks ago because he knew from that first appointment that things weren't well. He knew it but he wasn't sure so had to make sure. He couldn't come right out and say "this pregnancy isn't going to last" because he wasn't 100% sure that was the case - hence the blood tests and extra ultrasounds.

It also explained the demeanor of the PA as she, too, knew that we were holding on by a thread.

I mean, really, how fucking draining must it be to work in the area of pregnancies? Sure it's probably wonderful and almost euphoric when the pregnancy is wonderful and healthy... but what does it do to the nurses and doctors and staff when they have to witness an unhealthy pregnancy? When they have to be the bearer of some of the most horrific news imaginable?

"You're baby stopped growing."

"There is no heartbeat."

"The blood tests don't look good."

It wasn't that my doctor was bothered or annoyed by me or that the PA thought my feet smelled or something. It was that they were preparing for my emotion before I could prepare for it myself. They were preparing for my own hell. Just like they have with so many other women and parents many times before (and after) me.

"Just another ride on the roller coaster of life," Doc said to me before saying good-bye.

Indeed.

And I can almost see the top again.