Sunday, September 4, 2011

Two months...

Two months ago today I went to bed cautiously excited that I made it past the date of my latest lost, only to wake up and find the heartbeat was missing.  My little Andrew had died in MY sleep.  I should be very obviously pregnant with a big bulbous belly.  I should be feeling his kicks and ooohhhing and aaaahhhing with the kids and Doug as we watch my belly move.  Instead, I hold my little lamb (I moved his ashes to a lamb stuffed animal), hug him, kiss him, and tell him how much I wish he were here.  I close my eyes and try to imagine that it IS him and he is in my arms, as he should one day be...but it never will be.  A baggie full of ashes are all I will ever know of him...other than those few hours in the hospital that we spent with him.  Thank God I have the pictures of him.

I finally stopped bleeding two days ago.  I think the rest of the "product" has passed, finally.  Now, I can finally begin to heal after not having the constant, gruesome reminder of blood every time I go to the bathroom.  Now, I don't have to constantly worry that I will have to have another D&C.  I'm pretty sure I saw the tissue, so I'm optimistic that at my next scan in a few weeks, things will be cleared out and we can do a few more tests.  We will probably try again in a few months, but I'm just still so torn about it.  I don't know that I can bear another loss, but I don't know that I can end my childbearing years on three unexplained, seemingly luck-of-the draw losses.  I don't think I can feel like my life can move on if I don't have one more baby.  Yes, I am grateful that I have three of the most awesome children a mother could ask for...but there is still a void.  A void that is left even bigger now that three losses have slowly chipped away at it and made it bigger and bigger every July, with each subsequent loss.  The doctor has no answers and does not see why I can't have a healthy baby.  She sees no reason why I shouldn't try again, aside from the taxing toll and emotions that it causes me.  Of course, there's also the stress it would cause, seeing that I will never get to enjoy a moment of pregnancy again and it will be nine months of torture until a healthy baby is in my arms...God willing.  Each of my losses have been so different that there doesn't seem to be a connection, but now that I've had the induction, the D&C, and the two months of bleeding thanks to the retained I wonder if there is a new reason that might cause a future loss due to scarring or something.  It's such a mind game.

I am starting to feel normal again, though.  As in, I am back to my normal routine for the most part.  I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I am not expecting anymore and my belly is just fat, not baby.  That baby is gone.  BUT, the hurt is a little less and not as overpowering.  I still cry, pretty much everyday.  I still hate it.  BUT, I am enjoying my kids, back to working, exercising, LIVING.  The kids are doing great in school, and it has actually been nice to have some time to myself for a change.  I've been trying to take better care of myself and focus more on me and getting me happy and healthy.  I had a great massage last week that really helped get rid of some of my pain.  Since the loss, the change in hormones has really jacked up my fibromyalgia to the point where I can literally see why it is one of the leading causes of suicide.  I would NEVER consider it myself, but it is such a hopeless, painful thing to deal with sometimes...I can understand why some people lose hope and end it, just to get away from it.  Again, death is the last thing I want for myself, so no worries.  I am used to suffering and will continue to do so.  That's what my life seems to be about anyway.

Hopefully now I can get back on track and quit worrying about when I WOULD get back on track.  That is a huge stress lifted.  I am still waiting on my refund from the doctor.  That money would really help right now, as we are still trying to catch up from the month of July and how bad it threw us off track, what with being off of work, the extra money spent on us being at home, the money for bills, etc.  It's just one thing after another.  My turn is coming though. I feel deep down that one person can only take so much and then they HAVE to have some kind of luck come their way.  I am sick of hearing that "God never gives us more than we can handle," because honestly, I don't have a choice.  I can't handle any more.  I can't handle what I've been through, I just have no choice.  It happened.  It is.  I can either deal with it or lay down and die.  I don't see that as "handling" it.  I see that as simply being.

Anyway, here's to the new chapter.  The better, healthier me.  The me that is going to find answers for all my questions.  The one who is going to find what I believe in.  Here's to enjoying life more, even through the pain.  Enjoying my children more, my family, my friends.  It's time to start living again.