I am irrational.

Every time I hear that someone is pregnant, whether I know them or not, I feel like I am going to throw up. I am officially not doing very well. And I don't know how to handle it. I have never been so angry and sad in my whole life. While I am so grateful for what I do have in my life-my husband, my family, a good job, a nice home-I can't shake these sad feelings. Which makes me feel like a horrible person, because I know it could be much worse. A miscarriage is not the worst thing that can happen to a person. So I guess I'll keep praying. I've got to feel better one of these days.

Finally some snow in the south

So it never snows here. And every winter we all sit and wait, hoping that this year will be different. We are like little kids hoping to get a day off from school. And we are almost always disappointed.

This past Sunday night the local weather report showed that we should expect a "wintry mix" of light snow and rain, but that it would mostly be rain. So everyone went to work Monday morning and no one rushed to the grocery store like we usually do. And that's when it hit us. Seven inches of glorious snow and we never saw it coming. You should know that seven inches in Arkansas is like 25 inches someone in the north. It was a winter wonderland and I had 2 days off from work. Glorious.

Why does this hurt?

I was just on the phone with a good friend of mine, and I think she just let it slip that her sister is pregnant. It felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. But the weird thing is that I am not even friends with her sister. I do not begrudge her happiness or children of her own. Why does the thought of someone else that I *sort of* know being pregnant bother me so much? It's not like I think the conception of all new babies must cease now that I am no longer pregnant. Blah, this sucks. Silly me, I thought I was having a good day.

I'm a wierdo

Two of the four pregnancy tests I took last week are sitting on my dresser. I have to walk by them several times a day, but I can't bring myself to move them. I don't want to keep them, but I don't want to throw thew away. So they sit there.

This sums it up

I saw this on a message board about pregnancy loss and it really says it all:

Pregnancy loss is real loss. Those who are here and those of us who have passed through have experienced death. It's not what society generally considers death, but that is only because society as a whole chooses to ignore pregnancy loss. It's uncomfortable, surreal, and scary for those who have not experienced it. There was no person, no life, no accomplishments to remember fondly and mourn. People do not ask about our babies. People often do not know about them. Society says things like "it wasn't the right time" or "it's better this way" or "God has a reason," and then they drop it and expect that it never has to be mentioned again.

But these deaths for us are very real. As real as the loss of any grandparent, friend, or loved one. The baby that no one knew was known by its mother, even if only for a moment. We carried these lost children, and we loved them. We loved them with a fervor that is matched by the love of any parent. We wanted them. We wished for them. We prayed for them. Some of us waited days in limbo to find out the worst. For others a moment shattered everything.

But for most of us, the mourning has been done alone. There is no funeral, no memorial to remember the life lost. Many of us experience postpartum depression in the cruelest of all tricks, because our pregnancies ended too. However, unlike those who society sees as having a "right" to PPD, there is no baby to be the light at the end of the tunnel. And because this death was not acknowledged, people forget. They tell us about their pregnancies, they avoid us because we're still "not over it," they call us out for having sad days or bitter days as though we should have more control than others over the grieving process.

I have the bittersweet experience of knowing all sides of the equation. I have been blessed with a child. I have lost pregnancies. I have been blessed again. I have known the sheer madness of grief, the pure joy of expectation, the momentary solace of hope in the face of uncertainty, and the crushing hopelessness of loss and it is enough to drive one insane.

May you never experience it. I truly hope you do not. I hope this is only something you can read and learn to sympathize with. That the next time you hear another woman say something bitter or roll your eyes at the woman with downcast eyes at your OB's office or lurk on another board that you look closer and see the pain behind these simple, insignificant moments and sympathize instead of criticize or condescend or preach to them.

It was over before it began.

I guess before I blog about the worst day of my life,I should tell you about the best day.

So the last couple of weeks have been full of emotionally draining ups and downs. On January 25th I went out to lunch with one of my very best friends and burst into tears because I knew that I was nearing the end of another failed cycle. I had had a negative pregnancy test the day before at 13dpo, and I felt that my period would come at any minute and I just felt like I couldn't take it anymore. Now I know that six months of TTC is not very long, but hitting that half-way to a year mark was really getting to me. I cried to my friend that I couldn't take it anymore and maybe I needed a break. She tried to console me as best she could, but since her pregnancy was a "surprise" she doesn't really know what this feels like.

Well the next morning, January 26th, I get up, take my temp and see that it is still pretty high. Hmmmm.....should I take a test? I have one internet cheapie hpt left. I tell myself that I will take the test, and when it comes back negative I will go ahead and order my opks and hpts and preseed from ept.com. I get up, POAS and leave it on the counter while I get back in bed to wait for the water in the shower to heat up. About five minutes later I get up and look at the test. And I scream from the bathroom, "I think I see a line! I think I see a line!" I try to make Ben look at it, but he says he doesnt see a line. But I make him look again and he says "I see one, but is it supposed to look like that?" Well by now I know that a line is a line and I tell him, "I think I'm pregnant." I then remember that I have a dollar store test downstairs and I go and take it and see another very faint line. But I refuse to believe it until I take a digital.

On my lunch break that day, I go to a friend's house to take a digital and it comes back "Pregnant." It was the best day of my life.

But it all came crashing down a few short days later. Friday night, january 29th, I started bleeding pretty bad. I knew what was happening. I screamed from the bathroom and Ben came in there to find me crying on the floor holding the toilet paper. I showed it to him and just kept crying. We called the medical exchange, although I knew there was nothing we could do. I went to the doctor Monday morning, they drew blood and gave me a vaginal ultrasound to confirm that I did have a miscarriage.

The day before my positive test, I thought I had had all I could handle. It's like the universe said, "Oh, you think that's hard? Try this." I am trying to stay positive, but to be honest, right now I am just angry. At who or what, I am not sure. I hope my heart can heal soon.