Tuesday, 26 October 2010
I watched Up recently. I cried almost constantly, but I sobbed at the 'married life' montage when it becomes clear that Carl and Ellie can't have children. I knew it was coming, but it was still heartwrenching.
I got a book out of the library today. The Truth about Melody Browne by Lisa Jewell. 24 pages in, there it is. Dead baby. Neonatal death, to be specific.
NO ONE talks about dead babies in the real world. No one talks about miscarriage or stillbirth, at least not in my hearing. Why are they everywhere in fiction?
Monday, 25 October 2010
even after 12 weeks. every single time i expected blood, and looked and looked to try and find it. i think part of my brain was amazed that it wasn't there.
this time i'm still checking every single time. i'm still kind of surprised that it's not there... but this time, i don't think i really expect it. not in the same way as i did last time.
maybe that's a positive sign?
of course, as it happened, there was never any blood, last time around. not until well after we'd found out what happened, and after a lot of medication. ironic, no?
Sunday, 24 October 2010
The trouble is, you are surrounded with people with dead babies without the good experience some of us have to help you know you've gone through something relatively rare. Most pregnancies DON'T end in dead babies.
yes! that's exactly right. and that's the problem, although it's also a good part. hanging around the babyloss quarters of the internet means that i don't feel so alone, that what happened to me wasn't something that doesn't happen at all. but now i'm pregnant again all i can see is the miscarriages and the stillbirths and the neonatal deaths. all i can see are the people who have lost more than one pregnancy (at any stage) or child.
i read the book Avoiding Miscarriage last night. I actually found it quite reassuring. I see our odds of miscarriage as one in two, really - either it's going to happen or it isn't - but according to that stats at this point it's only about one in five. there's a good chance that i'll end up having this baby.
before i got pregnant i couldn't read certain blogs. not 'pregnant women' or 'women with living children', nothing that concrete. some i could read, but some i couldn't, and i never figured out why.
i suspect that for my own sanity i'm going to have to stop reading the blogs of those who've miscarried more than once. i hate that, but i think it's something i need to do.
"Most pregnancies DON'T end in dead babies."
So true Merry. thank you for reminding me. such a simple thought but it seems revolutionary to me right now.
i think it's mostly just hard to believe. that i was pregnant. that it really happened. that i was pregnant with a baby that was alive. that died.
i miss it. i miss my little lost one. but it doesn't seem like something that really happened.
i saw my gp on wednesday. i told her that i'd been worried about miscarriage; specifically ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy and blighted ovum. that i'd been having some occasional abdominal pains. i was crying on and off anyway. but then she said she wanted to examine me.
my gp's room is the room i was in for my final midwife appointment. the one where she couldn't find the heartbeat. i've been in there so many times since that i'm not so sensitive about the room anymore.
but this time i had to lay down on the same bed, in the same room. i cried. i couldn't even bring myself to tell her why.
i want this to be real. i want this pregnancy to end in a healthy, living full-term baby. but i'm so scared it won't.
and i'm so sorry that i keep repeating myself. i know it must be a little tedious. but hopefully i'll stop soon.
hopefully we'll see my midwife on wednesday.
Friday, 22 October 2010
the thing about my sick pay would be irrelevant if i knew this pregnancy was viable - i will hopefully have a scan before it happens and if everything is ok then i'll go back to work, and everything is fine. the problem is if everything isn't ok.
the thought makes me feel sick. makes me want to curl up into a gibbering ball on my sofa.
but i am five weeks today. five weeks. that's all. i'm not having any symptoms. i'm not feeling sick. i've not got sensitive bo.obs. (shouldn't i have sensitive bo.obs by now?) i'm not having weird tastes or smelling weird smells.
i know i'm lucky to be here at all. i know this is what i've spent nearly the last year absolutely desperate for. i know that i have to go through all this if i want even a hope of having a baby. but...
it's just that right now i don't think this is the one.
i just hope i'm wrong.
i'm only seeing single crows and magpies again.
i'm so scared of losing this chance at a baby.
Thursday, 21 October 2010
if you know me in real life and you're reading here and you've never explicitly made that clear, please could you send me a message (or comment here if you would prefer) to let me know? i'm not aware of anyone that is - other than people who i met through blogging or facebook who i'm obviously aware of.
i know that the internet isn't exactly an anonymous place to write and that i'm not exactly as well hidden as i could be, but i'd like to know if you're there.
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
i'm four weeks pregnant, people.
this is especially hard to hear from a girl who thought right the way through to the end of her pregnancy that something was going to go wrong. i thought i could rely on her to keep things low-key. i mean, i didn't want her to pretend that the news was nothing, but i thought she would at least acknowledge that i'm scared.
ah well. that's not what i came here to talk about.
when i was going i asked her to keep it under her hat. and she said yes, of course. i told her that i would tell three of our friends after we have a scan and know what's going on, and that at some point she could tell the rest of the group that used to be my friends. if they're still interested, i said.
i said that because... well. because none of them have contacted me. because they have let me drop off the edge of the world. they have given me no indication that they still remember what happened to me. that i lost my baby. that in the space of a couple of hours i went from pregnant and excited and with every reason to believe everything was ok, to having my dreams entirely shattered. a good number of my 'friends' just haven't acknowledged that at all.
but my friend heard me differently. of course they'll be interested, she said. they're not angry with you or anything.
What. The. Fcking. Fuck?????????????
what have i done for them to be angry with me for? NOTHING. their lives have been carrying on as normal, while i've been sitting here wondering if they will ever remember me. send me a message. let me know they're thinking of me.
yes, i haven't been in touch; but i'm the one that's been grieving over here. i'm the one who's been suffering from anxiety and depression. i'm the one who you hurt so, so badly by your careless facebook posts, showing off your perfect lives.
but she's not the one i'm angry with. she's the one that's been there for me, who's understood. much as i want to lash out, she's not the one who has hurt me.
she mentioned getting the baby christened again. i told her that i'd almost certainly be slipping in at the last minute and slipping out the minute it finished. but i don't think she understood, because after that she said that she knew D wasn't up for church things but that he was welcome to join the drinking part afterwards. D is even less likely to be civil than me. the people who have hurt me, he wasn't over fond of in the first place. and if i slip out the minute it finishes, then i won't be staying for drinks, will i?
i don't honestly miss these people. it's hard that my best friend is still close to them. i wish i could just forget they exist, but i can't.
i want to find some women who are pregnant after a second trimester loss who live nearby. i'm not sure how to go about finding them. i think i'm going to ask my midwife, but if anyone has any ideas about how to find any that would be really, really good.
Monday, 18 October 2010
in that shoebox are the things we were given for the baby. last time around.
and a couple of samples of things that would last until this time around.
and i want that shoe box. so, so badly.
i want to look at the contents, and imagine a happy ending.
but i don't know where it is.
and D denies all knowledge of it existing.
so i guess it must be trapped in the room that time forgot (previously mentioned here).
and that means it'll be a while before i can access it.
today i don't really believe that there's even the merest hope that this will work out.
but i still want to buy a blanket.
something to keep the baby warm.
or maybe something to keep my hopes warm when they seem too far away.
i think part of me is mourning this baby even while - as far as i know - it's still alive.
i meant to say. even D has commented on suddenly seeing pairs of magpies and crows everywhere, after only seeing singles for so, so long.
either i've really infected him with my crazy, or maybe they really do know something.
if this baby is going to stick, it's going to stick.
if it's not, it's not.
i can't make it go by reading about very early miscarriage, can i?
... can i?
please stay, baby. please stay.
Sunday, 17 October 2010
today i'm quiet. not excited, not terrified. occupying that grey area in the middle.
today i'm wondering about cancelling my tuesday appointment at the dental hospital for two small fillings. wondering whether the stress would be a bad thing.
today i'm wondering whether tomorrow the clearblue test will say '2-3' instead of '1-2'. and wondering how i'll cope if it doesn't. and wondering whether i should wait another couple of days. just to be sure.
today i'm hoping the midwife calls me tomorrow.
today i don't have any symptoms, and i'm trying to tell myself that that doesn't mean anything.
today i'm trying to remember that i'm lucky to have all these things to worry about.
today i'm thinking the next 36 weeks are going to last a very, very long time.
Saturday, 16 October 2010
and yet. and yet. only four days later, it was all over. the baby was dead.
we wouldn't find out for more than four weeks after its death.
23rd october will be a hard, hard day to get through.
ttc after loss is hard. the longing, the desperation to have back what has been lost. the desolation as you start to realise that even if you get pregnant again, you will never get that lost baby back. (it seems obvious, but it took me a while to figure that out. i thought that getting pregnant again would somehow erase my loss. would fix me. if only it was that simple.)
the sense of failure every month has left me utterly desolate at times.
over the last ten months, various people tried to tell me - some gently, some not - that maybe trying again immediately wasn't the best idea. that maybe we should wait a little longer. until i was somewhat out of the deepest, darkest part of the land of grief. but i couldn't have waited. i needed to know that there was hope. i needed to know that one day i would carry a child to term and have it live. i needed this, even though i know that there are no guarantees. i know that even getting to 40 weeks without a single glitch doesn't guarantee you anything at all.
ttc after loss is hard. especially when you're so very aware of the march of time. each month it's not just one egg that is wasted; it's many. each month puts me another month closer to 35; it's not that long until my birthday. some months the arrival of my period has felt like losing my baby all over again.
at the end of september i saw someone who drew the tears out of me that i had pretended were no longer there. she looked at me, concerned, and said that she thought i should not be trying to conceive. said she thought i should be grieving the baby i had lost, and looking after myself.
and i didn't really believe her, but i was somehow more willing to listen to this woman than anyone else.
but her words got into my brain. and as the tears and anger returned, i actually realised that i was ambivalent about conceiving that cycle. i had started to realise that yes, maybe time to grieve and to cry before pregnancy was a good idea.
a little part of my brain heard my thoughts, and it said:
woohoo! this, the month you don't want to get pregnant, will be the month you do!
the rest of my brain was mad. it urged that part of my brain to go away and leave me alone. and although a tiny part of me did actually hope that the prediction would come true, most of me just wanted a few more weeks to wallow in my sorrow.
(un)fortunately (take your pick, i'm not sure) fate does indeed have a twisted sense of humour.
i did a pregnancy test last sunday.
it was positive.
(i understand if you need to stop reading. i've been there. it sucks. but no need to keep reading when it hurts. i don't want anyone to hurt because of me.)
four weeks, one day.
and although i am more terrified than i can say, i feel different.
i'm not scared to put my hand on my belly. i never did that last time. i felt like it would be an affectation. i wanted it to be natural. so i never did it.
i want to buy stuff. i never bought anything last time. i have already bought this one a rattle. even if it doesn't stick, it will be a hand-me-down for [please, please] the next one.
i can sometimes imagine myself with a bump. last time, i never did.
i can almost imagine myself with a baby.
it's nearly 12 months after the first baby died.
it kind of seems right. not quite a year since the baby died. it almost feels like it has stayed 12 months, to make sure we're ok, and is preparing to leave now the next spirit has arrived.
there are no guarantees. like i say, i'm terrified. i have tested every day; all have been positive. i need to know it's still there. i am terrified. of chemical pregnancy; early miscarriage; late miscarriage; poor prenatal diagnosis; stillbirth, neonatal death.
and that's just the main categories. and that doesn't even count all the things i'm scared of once a baby is actually born.
but i'm hopeful. the exact ratio of terror to excitement varies from day to day. but both are constant companions.
love to you all, whether you're ttc, pregnant, or parenting after loss, or whether you are a friend who just wants to know what's going on in my world. and if this news makes my blog too hard to read, that's fine. if you'd rather i stopped commenting on your blog too, please do let me know. i can take it, i promise.
oh. and if you know me in the real world, this news is confidential. please don't blab.
Friday, 15 October 2010
jess at after iris read a list of the names of babies who have been lost. i listened to the whole thing. it was amazing to hear my baby's nickname read out. and it was amazing to hear all those names together. it felt like they were very near while she was reading.
what she said at the end made me cry.
last night i posted about (inter)national pregnancy and infant loss awareness day. I said...
tonight i lit a candle tonight and remembered my baby, and all the other lost babies out there.
Friday, 8 October 2010
i'm feeling better today. still tearful and upset and hurt and needing comfort, but better than yesterday.
i don't usually remember my dreams. but the last few months i've dreamed at least three times that i'm at an airport and that somehow i'm unable to catch the flight i'm due to be on.
i don't think it would take an expert to analyse that one, eh?
i'm starting to catch up on comments on other people's blogs. i'm not there yet but i'm getting there. i'm thinking of you all and i am so, so grateful for your comments and supports.
Thursday, 7 October 2010
i personally thought that we didn't have to do that straight away. i thought there was plenty of time. but he insisted. we borrowed money from my parents and went ahead.
our flat. we'd been looking to move for close to a year. but once i found out i was pregnant i thought again. when our fixed rate mortgage expired we moved onto a tracker mortgage. base rate plus 2%, on a relatively small mortgage. it doesn't add up to a terribly high monthly repayment. i was scared of how little my maternity pay would be; i couldn't justify ending up with a much higher mortgage when our income was going to drop so much. D wasn't terribly happy about staying put, but... well. we thought it was only until i went back to work afterwards.
but it meant that we needed to think about the flat. we needed to get ready for our new arrival. we'd already worked on the bathroom and our bedroom; it was time to sort out the spare bedroom.
but first, D wanted to sort out the lounge. replaster, paint, get a new carpet. i didn't know why he wanted to do that first, but it seemed important to him. and there was going to be plenty of time. it didn't really matter what order we did it in.
the plastering started on friday 20th november. five days before everything was going to fall apart. we moved all the furniture we could from the lounge into the spare room. all our bookshelves (and DVD shelves and CD shelves; MAN we have a lot of stuff). the chest of drawers.
nearly a full year later, it's all still in there. the lounge is replastered and the walls painted. the skirting boards and internal doors are replaced through the whole flat.
the furniture, though, all remains where it was put. actually, i tell a lie; D has moved the bookshelves around when we've needed to get behind them - it's a major faff every time.
but all the things we put in there to get them out of the way while we were decorating are still crammed into that small room. which means that we can only access half our books at any given moment. that our paperwork is piled high on the chest of drawers; technically accessible but without any indication what's where, so pretty much useless.
nearly a year on. it's taken me this long to realise that the reason we haven't dealt with the room yet is that we're still in no man's land. we don't have a baby; we're not pregnant. we've been trying again for over nine months and nothing; but we don't have a diagnosis that anything is actually wrong.
we can't make it into a nursery; what if it never happens for us?
but then what's the point in making in into something else?
the whole place is a tip. i have piles of stuff everywhere in varying degrees of urgency. and now my credit card payment is either going to bounce or is going to take me over my overdraft limit because the account my savings are in are unhelpful bas.tar.ds and i can't access it and because we've been overspending like drunken idiots over the last few months because don't we deserve some kind of a break instead of all this shit? and i can't say no to D when he asks if we can get things, because we were supposed to have a baby by now and it's not fair that we don't, and he says 'you should get this!' too and hell I SHOULD HAVE A BABY BY NOW AND I DON'T and buying this doesn't actually heal that hurt but i keep thinking it might, so we keep going into HMV or waterstones and buying DVDs and CDs and books like there is no fucking tomorrow and we've got to stop, we have no money, but i can't.
and apparently having a dead baby doesn't mean that your shit luck is balanced out by suddenly winning the lottery, because... just because, because life is shit i guess, and so all the crap we've bought the last year or so is a) taking up space and b) building up, and i've always managed to scrape something together, but a holiday in Barcelona, two wedding hotel stays, a car service, and something else i've forgotten about have conspired to all fall in the same few months and now i think we are like £500 short of my payment and like i say my savings are in a bank of unhelpful bastards that won't just do a fucking transfer to our current account until i send in a cheque and a direct debit form and THEN i can request them to move the money - EVEN THOUGH I WANT TO CLOSE THE FUCKING ACCOUNT ANYWAY - so. we're screwed.
i can get round it. probably. my phone cut out half way through my argument with the supervisor at a certain indian bank that kind of sounds like a chemical company (is that enough information for you to figure out who i am not recommending????) so i'll have to phone back sometime to set it all up, even though it makes me want to hit people to have to do so, and pretend i didn't argue with the last guy for like half an hour. but i have an empty credit card that have offered me 0% balance transfers, so i can probably use that.
but i just want to not have to deal with any of this. i just want to burn all the papers that are lying around. or have someone give us a nice shiny new house and we can leave all the shite lying round for someone else to deal with. i don't care.
why am i not pregnant? i'm guessing this meltdown is meaning that my period is on its way. it's not due for another four days but that doesn't seem to be the point.
i just want a baby.
apparently D - who thinks genetics has nothing to do with whether you are a parent or not and would be completely fine with adoption - isn't even ready to think about when we might start thinking about adoption yet.
i can't just keep on keeping on. i have no hope left. i know lovely people keep telling me that it's not just insane to keep on trying when the outcome keeps on being the same, that it's a sign of hope. but i can't keep having my hopes shat on like this.
i told D yesterday that i'm more mentally stable than he sometimes thinks. i guess this post proves him right.
i kind of think i should wait before posting this but i don't want to.
i miss you so much, baby.
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
i would do anything for
another minute with you, cause
it's not getting easier
not getting easier
I would dig a thousand holes to lay next to you
I would dig a thousand more if I needed to
I look around the grave for an escape route of old routines
There doesn’t seem to be any other way
Cause I’ve started falling apart I’m not savouring life
I’ve forgotten how good it could be to feel alive
Crazy as it sounds you wont feel as low as you feel right now
At least that’s what I've been told by everyone
I whisper empty sounds in your ear and hope that you won’t let go
Take the pieces and build them skywards
we're going to see these guys in december. i kind of hope they play these songs, and kind of hope they don't.
Monday, 4 October 2010
This looks at the selection of embryos and success rates.
Having IVF means that your chance of having a boy increases slightly (the article makes it sounds like it's suddenly 70-30, but actually it's 56-44 as opposed to 51-49).
This one talks about a test that gives you a better idea of your likely success with IVF.
i've still been mostly unable to cry. i did cry though at my counselling appointment this afternoon. it felt like a relief.
my counsellor thinks that repressed anger might be making it harder for me to cry. i'm going to try and work through that these next few days.
Sunday, 3 October 2010
last night (by which i mean friday night; it's past midnight now) i remembered something, and it gave me an unpleasant little jolt.
i realised it was 1st october, and that that meant we're approaching the anniversary of my first scan, the scan where everything was ok. and for a second, i remembered being at that scan.
and it made me jump. because i remembered watching the baby move on the screen. i remembered how it wouldn't keep still for the woman to take her measurements, to make sure everything was ok.
i remembered D and i joking that if it wouldn't keep still, it was definitely my baby.
and it was really unnerving. because in all the memories, i think that part had got lost. the part where my baby was alive. the part where it moved and we watched it, fascinated and amused.
i think i'd got caught up in the part where it was dead. still and unmoving.
funny how the alive bit gets forgotten and covered up by the death part.
Saturday, 2 October 2010
she mentioned a few days ago that the baby will be christened towards the end of this year.
and that's ok. i'd have no issue with being there. i want to be there.
... except. the rest of the group of friends will be there. the one that i used to be a part of. the one that i have no interest in being part of again. the people that will come and talk to me if they see me.
i don't want to have to talk to them. because from my point of view the only thing i'd want to say is why did you all forget about me? and if you didn't forget about me, then why the fckng hell did you let me drop off the side of the world? why were the only emails i received emails about socialising, to be swiftly replaced by no emails when i said i wasn't up to meeting groups of people? where were the messages asking how i was doing?
to be fair, four of the group were varying degrees of supportive, and i have no problem with them.
but one sent two messages of sympathy via text message and then never contacted me again. one sent one via (InYour)Face.book and that was it.
three i never heard from at all.*
i am actually quite scared of bumping into these people. every so often when i'm in town i get nervous in case i see one of them. because i know myself. i'm not going to challenge them on their total neglect of me. but neither can i talk to them like everything's ok. i fear that if it happens and they say 'how are you?' i will turn hugely passive aggressive and say 'pretty terrible actually; suffering from anxiety and depression, not pregnant again yet, still full of grief and pain from the loss of my baby and dealing with the fact that a second baby will not heal my pain. how are you?' and all that with a big smile.
i'd kind of like to do that, but i think that more likely would be me blanching, saying as little as possible and running away at the first opportunity.
so - to get back to the point of this post - my friend will invite the group to the christening. why wouldn't she? it's not her that they've been neglecting.
so i'll have to make the choice either not to go at all; or to slink in at the last possible moment, and to run at the end.
it might be easier if D agrees to go - moral support and all that - but he wasn't exactly known for his willingness to go to christenings before all this happened. before a large proportion of my 'friends' left me to deal with this on my own. i suspect he would have no problem at all in telling them how terribly they neglected me. and while i don't honestly care if he does, i don't think my friend's baby's christening would be the right time to do it.
just another layer of the ways in which this sucks.
*(one of those had a miscarriage a few months after me. i sent a card and emailed her maybe four times during the next few months, letting her know i was thinking of her and that i was there if she needed to talk to someone. i never had a reply. i hope she did appreciate the emails, but i feel kind of stupid for sending them.)
Friday, 1 October 2010
and this afternoon it's pouring with rain. and i want to be able to sit there. just sit, and be.
but the seat will be wet. i wouldn't mind if i'd sat down and then it had started to rain, but i don't want to do it this way round.
maybe if i didn't have to get two buses to get there i'd do it anyway. but i guess i can wait until monday.
i'm so tired. not just from the lack of sleep. from the amount of time i've been spending with people. i need a break. i need some solitude.
i still don't really know what i want to take to the snowdrop garden. i kind of want to take a white cyclamen, with some snowdrop bulbs in the same pot. but i'm kind of scared it would die.
i kind of feel like i've isolated myself from a lot of good people. some who have even had miscarriages in the past, so who understand to some degree at least. i don't want to throw friendships away. i don't want to refuse to associate with people who are not part of the ALI world.
but i kind of feel like i've lost the thing we had in common. i kind of feel that the connection has already gone. and i kind of hate myself for letting that happen.
but i can barely keep up with the babylost world. and i'm not writing so i have nothing keeping me connected to the writing world any more.
which sucks. i met some lovely people because of writing.
but i don't know if i'll ever go back to wanting to write fiction.
it's not fair.
i still miss my baby. more than i can say.
in 18 days it will be a year since we had the first scan.
four days after that will be the anniversary of our baby's death.
five weeks and four days after that it will be a year since we found out about that death, weeks earlier.
six or so weeks after that is the anniversary of the communal cremation service.
i know i said all this last night, but i need to say it again. to persuade myself that it's really real.
how the fckng fck can it be a YEAR?
i miss my baby. so, so much.
i had an appointment last tuesday morning. i cried in there, a lot. it was sudden and unexpected. i had thought the tears had mostly dried up.
but after i came out the tears seemed to dry up again. i think i tried to seal them up once more. put them in the box that tries to hold my grief, along with the memories.
even though the one thing that had suddenly come abundantly clear was that that wasn't going to work.
last thursday was the worst. i felt stuffed full of stuck emotions. tears that wouldn't fall. anger and frustration i couldn't express. i ended up standing outside in a conveniently-timed rainstorm; letting the rain and the cold seep into me, in the hope that it would help. it kind of did, but not much.
last friday, i cried a little at the cemetery, but not enough. not enough.
on monday, at my counselling appointment, the counsellor broke through my defences. i cried a little more, relieved, but it still wasn't enough. i kind of hoped that when i got home that i'd be able to carry on. but no.
since then this week has been horrendous. a three-hour root canal appointment at the dental hospital, complete with rubber dam. a visit from my parents (who, to be fair, are not horrendous), who told me that if i needed space that they would just pop round for a short while and then go. but no; instead i pretended that everything was ok (not even consciously, to be fair) and took them into town and to my friend's house so they could see her new baby.
and in all of this, not a single tear.
i am terrible - TERRIBLE - at realising that what i want and what i need are sometimes two entirely different entities.
i want to be ok. i want to be fine with babies, 100% of the time. i want to be able to spend time with my parents without an undercurrent of wrongness.
i want my mum (and my dad) to be holding my baby. to be buying presents for their first grandchild, not my friend's baby.
i didn't really realise how hard it would be, seeing my mum holding my best friend's baby. (strangely it wasn't so hard when i saw her hold my best male friend's baby.)
what i want and what i need are two different entities right now.
i need time. i need space. i need to go sit in the snowdrop garden. i need to phone and ask about that plaque. i need to have days when all i have to do is sit on the sofa and cry. cry because my baby isn't in my arms. cry because i don't believe i will ever hold a baby of my own in my arms. cry because i seem to be the only one who actually, actively misses my baby.
anyway. my brain's been reaching towards something. with this post and my own post from earlier tonight and the part towards the end of this post from quite some time ago.
and i didn't really understand where my brain was trying to go until just after i got into bed.
and then my thoughts suddenly unravelled themselves, and everything became clear.
i don't want to be pregnant *again*.
i want to be pregnant *still*.
i want to travel back in time. one year. i want to go back to when the baby was alive. i want to do something - anything. i want to make whatever sacrifice i can to make sure that this time, my baby lives.
i don't want a new baby.
i want the baby i lost.
i want the baby that died.
and that, right there, was the thought that broke through the defences i didn't mean to assemble. that was the thought that made me really cry.
i got back up out of bed. there's no point in waking D. he has enough problems without having to comfort a sobbing B in the middle of the night.
i've stopped crying right now. but i don't think i'll have any problems starting again when i need to.
i think i was talking a load of shit when i said that i didn't really think that it was really a baby that i had lost.
the irony is that of course, even that thought isn't strictly true.
i never wanted to have only one baby. i always wanted more than one. three for preference, but i'm realistic. i know that two is a more realistic number.
(although if i get to have two living children, maybe i get my wish. just in a really sh.it way.)
i do want to be pregnant again. to have a baby that one day i get to feel moving inside me. to experience childbirth, whether 'natural' or through a c-section or what.
and as i can't get my first baby back, it will have to be a different baby.
CD26 and i still haven't ovulated. this is the latest ever.
right now i actually don't want to get pregnant this month. i want to take a month off to cry and get a tat.too and just be.
problem is, if i ovulate over the next couple of days, we've still got a chance of conceiving anyway.
and i kind of think that my body has a sick enough sense of humour to make me pregnant the month when i'd really rather it didn't happen.
i don't know what i want. (except to go back in time and get a different outcome.)
i don't know what i need. (except to be fixed. to go back to the old me. and, of course, to have my baby back, alive and well.)
it's nearly 3am. i
i'm a terrible commenter right now. it would be better if i didn't comment on anyone's blog - at least that would be consistent! - but i'm managing some and not others. i'm sorry. i don't mean to neglect my friends. i'm just finding life extremely hard right now.