The Thin Line

I began my week, first thing Monday morning, on a soap box. I stood on that box all through my shower and my morning routine as it slowly grew higher and higher. I was going to get into work, do a couple of things, and during my afternoon slump time, purge all the pent up frustration on this particular topic. But before I could even begin to do that, my train of pent up frustrating thoughts was quickly brought to a halt by one single phone call.

I am constantly trying to decide where I need to draw the line on how much I should share on my journal. Yes, it is my site where I should be able to go to sort through whatever might be running inbetween my thoughts on any particular day. But, at whose expense? Where is that eluding thin line? Since this phone call, I have been wrestling with this question. I haven't posted anything because I decided where I thought that line needed to be drawn. However, now over 24 hrs. past this fateful call, I am still sitting here, sifting through these emotions. I have spoken to my close confidants, thinking that would be sufficient replacement to writing, but still I have these emotions that just don't know where to go. Therefore, I am retesting my line, but with great boundaries because I feel as if I need to put this somewhere and hold it up to others to exam.

This phone call, the one that has ripped at my heart has also been bringing me to the verge of tears. This single phone call informing me of a near death experience of someone I care more about than I realized at the hands of themselves. Each person involved, especially the maker of this call, I carry immense love and care for. The events of that day, and what they felt forced to do just keep replaying themselves over in my mind as I see this person carrying out these acts that almost led to the end of them. As I see this person, doing this act my heart just begins to break knowing what type of pain they were in that brought them to that particular point, at that particular moment. I know how that person might have felt. And since I met them, I have felt an emotional connection as if I had for maybe just an instance walked in that persons shoes. I can remember being in my early twenties, with my whole life ahead of me, but all I could see was what I didn't have rather than what possibilities laid ahead for me. I saw, being the youngest, older siblings who had their own families...husbands and children of their own. Here I am, single with no takers for me feeling like the only people who loved me are those who were biologically obligated to love me. Simply put: they had no choice in the matter and I wanted someone, who with no obligation to me would on their own choose to love me. I can remember feeling that sense of hopelessness. My mom too remembers my feelings as she recalled them tonight. I never considered ending my life over this. But that doesn't mean I have never felt those dark feelings. After my miscarriage they haunted me continuously until I got to a point that they felt peaceful for just a moment. It was a picture of my niece that snapped me out of it. All I could think of at that moment was how she would feel and how that would cause so much damage in her life. She adores me as much as I adore her. For goodness sakes, she will tell a complete stranger how she is my princess. And for me to just abandon her? I couldn't bare that pain from above. The will that I had that day to not follow those dark thoughts don't define me as a stronger person as this individual. Instead I hurt for them. I hurt because all I want to do is find a magic serum that would allow reason to mix with the irrational and the thought of living to feel more peaceful than the thought of dying.

I don't know where else to go with this right now as it is midnight and my morning/mid-day/evening sickness is beginning to take a toll. But for now, I will end with this thought: To you, dear little Cherub, feeling alone in this world, there is one person who, with out biological obligation, is praising God tonight that you survived. Hold strong dear one.

Dear Baby,

Today I have turned 6 weeks along in my pregnancy with you and for that reason I feel moved to write you this letter. I am hoping that some day, maybe during your teenage years, you will be able to sit down and read this and know how desperately you were wanted. I hope and pray you will make it little one. Just this morning I had a panic attack and swore that I was beginning to bleed. I went to my one true source of pregnancy confirmation, my boobs, for the answers and not one bit of pain as they have hurt the moment I found out I was pregnant with you. I felt the numbness set in and my heart begin to race and that feeling of emptiness, of totally loosing control over the one thing in my life that I want so badly. I sat at this same spot on the couch where I write you this letter and tried to reign in my emotions. Is it really happening, again? And if so, how on earth will I get through this? I sat, paralyzed with fear...I couldn't move. I watched the clock and waited, ten minutes I told myself. You can check again in ten minutes. But that just seemed like eternity. I couldn't wait. With my shaking hands and racing heart I went into the bathroom, my walk of shame that I feel like I have taken one to many times, and checked. Please dear God, please no blood. And as I sat there, on my porcelain throne, I let out a big sigh of relief followed by an anxious laugh. It was all in my head, no blood and sore boobs. No change, just me, being overly anxious that because I wore the same panties I wore the first time I miscarried, I would loose you too. I am sorry to say, but your mom is a little crazy. But if there is one thing you can learn from this experience, it is this: You are already the most loved little bean, above all the little beans in this world. If I was to loose you tomorrow, my heart would be so broken. I have bonded with you already, I talk to you each day. I know it sounds crazy as you are the size of my thumb, well, the tip of my thumb. How could someone love something so small? Did you know that at 6 week your little heart will start beating? I read that this week, Wednesday to be exact and thought to myself "Two more days, I can't wait". Now I am beginning to be filled with all sorts of worry as I anticipate next weeks blood work. What happens if you aren't growing and my blood levels have dropped? What happens if your heart doesn't start beating and can't be detected on the ultrasound? All these questions, all these fresh new fears. As I begin to worry that maybe, deep inside hidden by my protecting eyes something is not happening that should, a new feeling washes over me, almost as if to encourage me that all is okay. I know most women dread this part and pray for the day it ends..but you will be the only child whose mommy excitedly felt her first feelings of nauseous and the best feeling of relief wash over her body. My dear little one, I know I still have 34 weeks left to go, but I beg you, please don't leave me, please allow us to meet. Allow me to hold you in my arms and kiss your little forehead. I have great things planned for us, but you have to hang in there my little barnacle...I promise you only good things will come from.

Lovingly,
Your Mommy to be

Don't Jinx me

Now, I am sure many of you are wondering why I am not talking about the pregnancy or even giving good updates. Or maybe you're not but like it or not I am going to tell you why anyways. Here is the thing dear internet: I don't want to jinx myself. What's that you say? There is no such thing as being jinxed? Then prove it. Until then, I shall live my life as if there is an ultimate jinxer who yells: "Jinx, owe me coke" each time I say things are going smooth. Yes, I am paranoid. But remember, we are referring to the girl who still sleeps with the night light because she is afraid of the dark. We all know that the boogie man only comes out at night. And did I mention that I do step over the cracks in the sidewalk? I don't want to break my mother's back. Really, I guess am not paranoid, I think the correct term is superstitious. Yes, I am superstitious and when it comes to this pregnancy I am taking absolutely no chances. I want to stay pregnant for the next 34 weeks and will cross all my t's and dot all my i's to make it happen.

You: So does this mean you're never going to speak of your pregnancy?

Good question, glad you asked! I will talk about the pregnancy once I feel like I am out of the really scary zone. And I define that time as June 3, 2005 which will mark the end of the first trimester. So, instead of saying everything is going great and how happy I am, I will only say this: I am planning on being 6 weeks pregnant this Friday. I have not spotted since last Tuesday. I bought maternity pants online this weekend.

Okay, well, that one really isn't an indicator of how this pregnancy is doing but it is something I am having a slight dilemma with. First, I must explain to you my extensive wardrobe and my love for fashion. I love my wardrobe. I love getting dressed in the morning. I have to store my clothes in the basement of my friends house because all my clothes won't fit into my apartment....only per season fits, so for instance, all summer clothes are safely stored away at the moment along with all the shoes for that season. So, the problem: for those of you who have never met me in person here, I am a human giraffe. I have a short little body that rest on legs which look like stilts. I have no problem buying pants because the fashion industry has finally come to the conclusion that some women need pants longer than a 30" inseam and the high water look is out so they have answered our cries for good fashion. Unfortunately the fashion industry has also come to the conclusion that during pregnancy women shrink. There are few stores that realize the shrinking theory is ludicrous so they are cashing in on us tall desperate pregnant women by forcing us to use our unborn children's college savings as collateral for pants that are longer than 30". I don't want to use my child's college savings mainly because I need them to support me in my old age. But even more it goes against every grain in my body to pay overinflated prices. I only buy on clearance and consider Salvation Army high end. After doing much eBaying this weekend and finding that all decent maternity pants are no longer than 30" I meandered over to Motherhood.com and found, to my surprise pants with a 32" inseam for below $20! I was thrilled and bought them immediately. So, for those of you who have just been dying to get me something...I've got just the thing for you: Motherhood Maternity gift certificates! I will give you a pair of my beloved Franco Sarto's at this point to find a pair of pants that don't make me look like Michael Jackson in his Bad video!

Now, after buying the pants I was so afraid that I just jinxed myself. Jumping ahead and buying pants assuming that you will be needing to wear them. It is a scary feeling for me but a good test in realizing that maybe the other shoe won't fall because they are both on the ground already.

The truth was in the thighs

I figured rather than bore all of you with mindless rants of my anxiety ridden pregnancy I would humor you with one of my classic stories. Typically these stories are told near the end of the work day when I become delirious and my co-worker typically is on the same route I am so we laugh hysterically together. I totally realize that this would be better in person, but again, anxiety ridden pregnancy is getting old, just admit it...you won't hurt my feelings. Anyways, this story will have a point eventually, just hold out for it.

When I graduated from college I couldn't find a job to save my life. I did a stint at a Drug Rehab program (not as a patient but a counselor so were all clear), and although I found walking through South East D.C. comical, it didn't pay enough for me to buy a gun. So, I decided to move up in the world and work with Kelly Temp Services. My first Temp job was with a D.O.D. contract company and all you need to know about that is it was the only job that I began sobbing at due to boredom...and really, I did sob, I am not just saying that for ratings here. I should also point out that this is when Heather and I reconnected. During lunch breaks I would drive up to FCS and beg her for some books to read...she took pity on me and became my friend which would ultimately be the begin of her demise further down the road. Anyways, I basically got fired from that job. Very humiliating and the only job to date I've got fired from. But that brings me to the site of my story. After my firing I called Kelly Services back and begged for a new job and promised that I would never talk about my supervisor behind her back ever again, I would only degrade her to her face. They believed me and shipped me to US Airways where I was now not only a Temp but a Temp to hire! The job was great, the location was less drug infested and more rich business types and there was a Chipotle right there in the building...what could be better than that? Slowly I made myself at home there and fell into a pretty nice morning routine. I would pick the Metro up at Franconia/Springfield (Blue line to be exact) and enjoy the nice 1/2 hour ride and get off at Crystal City where I would then walk a half mile to the office. I check in, drop off my stuff , do the typical shoe swap and meander down to get my coffee and donut at this nice Indian man's store. Every morning, same thing: Flavored Seattle's Best Coffee with a Powder Chocolate filled donut. I would make my way back to my cubicle and meticulously cut my donut into fourth's making sure to evenly divide the chocolate on each piece. I would then devour my sweet donut and sip my warm coffee. I did this routine every day for 2 months. It worked, it was nice, it was my "Good Morning Emily" routine. Well, it was until one weekend, late August, it was unseasonably cold for the D.C. area. I, being the good Christian girl, headed out to church with a pair of jeans on that I had not worn since the summer began. I get to church to enjoy the service and before the pastor could get a prayer out of his mouth the most unbelievable thing happens to me. This has never happened to me in the course of my adult life mind you. I sit down, cross my legs and get all comfy for the service when out of nowhere my zipper to my favorite jeans that fit only 3 months back unzips. Not just a little, were talking full 'zzzzziiiippp" from top to bottom. I am horrified. I don't even hear the sermon because all I can do is zip and re-zip for 45 minutes. How did this happen? I've never gained weight like this? What on earth did I do to gain so much weight that my poor zipper refuses to stay up? Immediately following the service I make an emergency call to Derek (who at the time was in NY as we were still engaged) and tell him about my dilemma.

"Well Em, you have been eating a donut for breakfast every morning for the past 2 months"

That's what he says, that's his only response to his frantic fiances cry for help. Donuts are bad for you? Of course they are he tells me...and then he informs me of how much fat they have in them and how it's enough for your daily fat intake...in one stinkin donut and I've been having one a day along with Chipotle taco for lunch, exceeding my fat intake for 5 years!! And it is at that moment I ask him why on earth he didn't think about telling me all of this 2 months ago?

Hmmm...he thought I knew. I didn't know. I had not one inkling that Donuts were bad for you...it's a dirty little secret no one shared with my except for the cold day in August that my thighs were forced to tell me the truth. I tell you my friend, your thighs never lie.

Derek forgets many of my stories. I reminded him of this particular story while we both were bored at work one day. He likes to call me from work to hear my stories. I guess you can imagine what kind of days he's having? Well, this morning, my dear husband, after running an errand returns with, in hand the one thing I have sworn off since bangs....a powdered chocolate filled donut. And he smiles as he watches me cut it into fourths and spread the chocolate evenly on each piece and lovely he says "It's okay Em, one won't make you fat, now one a day for 2 months will though".

And that my dear friends is love.

Brita for the Brain

Yesterday was round 3 of Bloodwork. Before I reveal the results, let me explain the extreme anxiety that I was experiencing leading up to and following this event. Tuesday night before I went to bed, I did my nightly T.V. watching as we all know how my addiction goes with things reality, specifically this night was the Discovery Health Channel. Tonight's episode that intrigued me was called "Conception to Birth" where they followed 5 couples during the process. Please note that I would have been interested in this show regardless of the pregnancy. So, out of the 5 couples, one of the ladies ends up miscarrying at 10 weeks. I turned the show off at that point and began my spiral into the depths of fixation. I sat there thinking how even if I make it to this Friday (5 weeks) I am not even half way there and I might not even make it to my 1st trimester now. This fixation was followed by an evening of waking every hour on the hour starting at 2 a.m. to check to see if I had miscarried yet. Keep in mind that my miscarriage had occurred early morning, and I woke up last Friday early morning to bleeding. My day was only a wakeful continuation of my early morning fits but followed by a churning stomach, raising heart rate and tears that would present themselves each time I thought about the what if's. I was supposed to have the results by 5:00 p.m. I call the receptionist who tells me that the results did come, she had read them to my doctor and he would be calling me. An hour later, still no call....I am a total mess. I decided that to kill time I'd take a nap, I'm pregnant, it seems like a good idea. Funny how anxiety doesn't rest when you rest. As I laid in my favorite napping spot I woke hyperventilating and even, yes, choking on my own darn saliva! This is how insane the what if's are making me. In the words of Dr. Phil, how's that working for you? Well Phil, it's not and if I continue like this for the next several weeks I think D will have me committed and I don't want my memories of pregnancy to be a psych ward. Rather, I've decided I can't allow myself to read, hear or watch anything related to infertility or miscarriages. The only miscarriage stories I will listen to are from people who miscarried once and then had a successful second pregnancy. Yes my friends, ignorance is bliss and the only way I will be able to experience that bliss is by putting filters on my brain.

Now, for the results of the test: My numbers look great, they are at 809 almost doubled from Monday. My doctor feels confident. I have also stopped spotting as of Wednesday which makes my doctor very happy. I obviously am elated by the results and the lack of blood. But you know what's going through my brain now? They say that your numbers doubled every other day and my numbers didn't exactly double from Monday. My doctor says they don't have to double exactly, and I need to stop being so paranoid. Each pregnancy is different and this one has nothing to do with the first. How badly I would like to return to that time when I was able to be naive and believe that my pregnancy would never end. Well, not until 40 weeks that is!

The shirt told me to

Why am I always the last to know? I just read about this on S.J.'s site and immediately ran over to Target's website only to find that the crazy activist already got their hands on this one. Personally, I am dying for this T-Shirt, I think it is absolutely hysterical. I do see an epidural in my near future, and I have every intention of having a drug induced delivery. I also think that my baby won't die if I feed him/her Gerber rather than making my own baby food. And breastfeeding? Don't get me started. Now, the crazy activists feel as if newly pregnant women such as myself will see this shirt and decide that natural childbirth is just not for them...based on a stupid shirt? I hate to reiterate what many like S.J. have already said, but, if uneducated Americans are really that stupid, they shouldn't be reproducing anyhow. For me, I am ordering mine tonight. Not from Target of course, but from the here where the shirt originated from. Get a sense of humor America!

Let's toast, I'll bring the juice!

Thursday HcG levels:

118

Monday HcG levels:

459

Now, obviously I was just a little off by what the numbers were supposed to look like. I know for sure that these numbers are right because as the doctor read them to me I told him to slow down because I needed to make sure I post the most accurate numbers on website tonight. Well, I didn't say that exactly but it sounded like that in my head.

If you didn't notice, yeah baby, I more than doubled my numbers....even through this spotting my pregnancy is progressing. I can't even begin to find the accurate words to describe the relief that just washed over me. It's the best news I have heard since March 11. Wednesday should have been a happy day when I found out we were pregnancy again, but after discovering the spotting, it just rained on my parade. Tonight I have even found myself secretly happy and looking forward to this pregnancy. However, I quickly reign my thoughts back in and remember how oblivious I was when I miscarried the first time. My new goal is Friday as that is the day that I am 5 weeks. I know people, it's such a small number, that drives me crazy too. I am just at the beginning of this and I am already stressing. But before we know it I will be 10 weeks and we would have heard the heartbeat. So, no uncrossing yet...I want those fingers, toes, tongues and eyes crossed until I tell you otherwise.

Cross everything you got

I had an appointment this morning to give blood, what a great way to start the day. The bottom line here is all about the numbers. On Thursday my baseline was 1400 ~ I think, maybe she said 1200, I can't remember. But let's just say it was 1400, alright? The blood work today needs to now say 2800, or 2400 if it truly was 1200, but you get the point....whatever the number was on Thursday, it needs to come back doubled. It won't come back until, maybe, late afternoon...say around 4:30 ish or it might come back tomorrow morning. See, this is what sucks (amongst plenty of other things) about this situation, there is no such thing as absolute, no black and white, only gray, only guesses. I hate gray. What does it mean if the numbers aren't doubled? Ahh, that is the problem here: it means I will most likely miscarry. So, join with me by crossing everything you got in hopes for doubled numbers.

***She says with her eyes, fingers, toes and tongue crossed***

Please don't miscarry, please don't miscarry, please don't miscarry

Blinders on

So I am going to make this quick as there is not much to say after you have been on bedrest for 4 days. I could tell all of you how I watched re-run after re-run of Law and Order, but that would be pretty boring as it was just watching it. Sadly, I do love that show and the bedrest alone has ruined the experience for me. Heck it has ruined my love for MTV and Discovery Health and all things reality T.V. all together.

I am assuming that I did not miscarry this weekend. That is a good thing. I assume that because I haven't had a big bleed since Friday morning, just spotting, quite obnoxious. Of course, each day is a new milestone for me, I can't see passed it...I just take everything in 24 hr. increments, that is about all my mind can handle at the moment. I have put blinders on so I don't think about the days to come, I have to get through this one first and wake up in the morning with no blood, that is the goal. When I miscarried on March 11 with the first pregnancy I woke up covered, and when the bleeding with this pregnancy started it began early morning. Needless to say, I don't sleep much come 6:00 am. I toss and turn only forcing myself to sleep. I figure what good will it do me to discover a miscarriage at 6:00 am. I won't be able to stop it so I might as well get some rest and deal with it later. So far it has worked. I wake up each morning and just ask God to give me the strenght to get through this day and beg Him to protect this itsy bitsy life inside of me. I explain to Him how another miscarriage is not the desire of my heart. I hope He's listening.

My weekend in a nutshell? Very easy: it revolved around blood and boob checks (as they say the tenderness goes first before you miscarry). Not very glamorous for a Princess I must say.

Head full of Paranoia

I promise that I posted right after my appointment yesterday. It was full of doubt, hope and stress. But almost as if Blogger had a crystal ball to the future, knowing that the update would be noll and void by morning, it crashed. A half hour of articulate thoughts washed away with a click of a button and for the next 24 hours Blogger has been down. I considered just emailing everyone individually, but bedrest is very exhausting and after the thought came to me I fell asleep. Upon waking up I discovered that Blogger was finally back online. So, here we go again. I can't promise the witty update like I did yesterday. My wittiness can be compared to that of a shooting star.

The doctor's appointment showed a great deal of promise: A closed OS and dark brown leftover blood....all looked good. They took blood, told me to take Aspirin and come back on Monday to take more blood. The doctor felt hopeful, I felt doubtful, D felt stressful. In the end I guess I won. Like a replaying of a bad movie, I woke up this morning to that horrible feeling of blood. I immediately ran into the bathroom where my fears once again were confirmed. Numbness, disbelief, shock and a feeling I didn't have last time, anger. Anger because everyone in the medical community and around me said how the first time was just fluke.

"You'll pregnant again and be just fine" they would say. "We won't even talk about another miscarriage".

Aaaargh. And then the anger at everything and everyone who gets to get pregnant without having to deal with this. Yes, I know, that is an actively stupid thought, it does me no good. And of course it is such a unrealistic anger. I do realize these things. But when you are laying in bed miscarrying for the second time the last thing you worry about is unrealistic anger. All you know is how badly you want to be a parent and how shitty it is that you are bleeding out a second pregnancy and there is not a damn thing you can do about. And no, I don't care that I am only a couple of weeks pregant, I am pregnant and that is how I want it to stay for the next 35 weeks.

D decided to stay home with me today. I told him not to but he knows me better that I give him credit for. We moved into the front room as I just sat sobbing, what the hell else am I going to do? But, I do notice one thing that is different than the last miscarriage, my boobs still hurt....real bad. I think, "Now, now, don't get hopeful, you know what hope does to you". No matter how much I try to will myself not to, I can't stop it, I so badly want to believe that this time I won't miscarry, that this time it will be prevented. I go into the bathroom to do what has become a ritual of some sorts around here, a blood check and to my surprise, there is no more blood. An a half hour later we do it again, still, just small traces and the color is even more hopeful, brown...this is good...brown means old blood, red means fresh blood. We sit anxiously waiting for 9:00 a.m. to hit because I refuse to call my doctor on the emergency number when I know that the office will be opening in 45 minutes. I am so stubborn. So, we sit, D pretends to be a thug rapper because, even when I try not to, a crack up laughing, it's just to hysterical. He does his best to make me smile. And during this process he finally admits that all optimism he had has left his body. I warned him, stay married to me any hope that you might have had that all things will work out will be stomped out. He's married to a *****, that is just reality. He says that his folks balance him out because they still live in a world where when they pray, God actually hears them and clears a smooth, open path. I sadly explain to D that he to has now been blacklisted, that's what happens when you marry a *****.

Now, I pause to let all of you know that I wish and pray that the above statement wasn't true and at times I try to believe that God isn't picking on me. I really do want to see a potentially bad thing turn into a good thing. Yes, I desperately want a miracle. But, I can't hold my breath any longer because I only end up passing out waiting.

9:00 a.m. finally comes and I nervously make the call. I am nervous because I know that I am the strange paranoid patient that they talk about at the end of the day. The girl who sees blood and calls hysterically. Therefore each time I remind the lady that I just miscarried 4 weeks ago and I really don't want to miscarry again and continue to apologize that I keep calling. She says she'll give the doctor the message, he then promptly calls me back and I go back over the same litany I just gave his secretary. He again feels hopeful, and now D and I feel doubtful. He feels good about the color of the blood and that my boobs are still sore. He then promptly puts me on bedrest for the next several days and refuses to talk about me miscarrying, he says we need to talk positively. He won't even talk about pregnancy #3 and sustaining, this sucks because as we all know I am the other shoe will fall kinda girl and must always have a backup plan.

When I got off the phone, I sat at on my loveseat which over looks the main road in front of my apartment and did what I rarely do in times of crisis, I prayed. I did the spirit-filled thing and told Satan to go away and asked God to save this pregnancy. I told Him I was at the end of my rope when it comes to trusting Him. I don't want another miscarriage, that is NOT the desires of my heart and His word says He will give us the desires of our hearts. Someone here is lying.

Thank goodness for friends, thank goodness for you and your Vanilla steamed drinks and treats. It's friends like that, who about to leave for a week cruise and am sure had a gazillion things to do carved out sometime to sit with me.

So, I sit here and just tell myself to hang on to whatever little piece of hope that I can and hopefully it won't let me down.

Mood Swings: Be Warned

Not like many people are reading today, maybe it was all the damns that scared you away, that's fine. But when you miscarry then get pregnant with what only begins as another possible miscarriage then you can have some say. Until then, it's all about vulgarity here people. I know, I sound harsh, and you are probably sitting there calling me a jerk...I understand, really, if I was you I would steer very far away from me right now also. I am a hormonal, almost miscarrying woman at the moment with a huge anger management problem. What was my point? Oh yes, I am going to update the internet world anyway...maybe really the only person I am updating is God, which has to be a good thing because maybe he forgot that I exist and this might serve as a reminder that I could use a little help here. So, my update: Well, the good news is that I don't think I have miscarried yet. I am still spotting though and decided to stay home today and put myself on bedrest. The way I figure it is the less I move the less I bleed. The less I bleed the less the chances are that I will pass the pregnancy. I know, I am just prolonging what just might be the inevitable. But, it's worth a try. Oh, and I am taking 81mg of Aspirin, Baby Aspirin to be exact to try to keep this baby, it's orange flavored and it has been the highlight of this whole experience as I really I love the chewables. We go at 3:30 today to see what the doctor says. I am fully prepared for him to look at me like I am crazy. I mean, really, who the heck gets pregnant right after miscarrying? And here I am freakin out about miscarrying a few week old pregnancy, I must be disillusioned. But to me, it's a baby already. To me it's my baby already. And that is strange thing for me if you knew how I felt about these type of topics. But, I truly want this pregnancy and I will mourn once again if it miscarries...3 weeks or 30 weeks...it's important to me. So, I hold out as much hope as a person can who doesn't have much hope to hold onto. I hold out while swinging the never ending vines of the hormones and hope along the way I don't seriously injure someone. And, in the end, if this pregnancy also miscarries, I storm down my Gyno's door and force them to help me sustain for round #3.

The Saga Continues

So I go home today with the hinting suspicion that something is just not right with my body: Extreme exhaustion, moods swing that would throw you to the moon....hmm, if all is right my period should have started, um, Sunday? Just to ease my mind I decide to take a pregnancy test and sure enough, yep, you guessed it, Positive. Another Pregnancy...and even before a smile began to come across my face I see the one thing a pregnant woman is just terrified to see: Blood! Yep, here we go ago...can you say miscarriage #2 beginning to show it's ugly head? It's almost like my body loves to get pregnant but then after it tells me, it changes it's mind as if to say "Haha, just kidding...we'd rather not". Dammit for instinct, dammit for home pregnancy test, dammit for miscarriages. So, off I will go to the doctor's tomorrow for the blood work. At least now, with pregnancy #3 we can get some hormones to force that cruel little body of mine to stay pregnant. I mean really, how hard is it for my body to just produce HcG...no, I am not looking forward to shooting myself up with hormones. Dammit!

Emotional 911

I know, I know....where the heck have I been? Well, I have had a pretty tough week. I never knew that not dealing with something is a hell of a lot harder than just dealing with it. I have a tendency when bad things happen to me to move on from it pretty quickly. I hate dwelling and have always considered myself a mentally strong person for the most part. However, somewhere between grieving and dealing I meet in the middle eventually I get sad. Very sad. But not even sad enough to tell anyone, because by telling someone I am admitting defeat over being strong. After I miscarried I called my therapist, not for me but for work as she has done some side stuff for the Agency. During our conversation she asked how I was and I told her my tale of woe. Even before I could answer her on how I was doing she immediately interjected "You're doing wonderfully, I am sure" and then proceeded to schedule an appointment with me for two weeks later. I wasn't looking forward to going, actually I dreaded it to be honest....this lady is good, and at times too good. But I went, held back all the tears I could and tried to begin to make sense of this. I don't think I could adequately described to anyone the emotions I am feeling, not because I don't have the words to use but more because I don't give you the knowledge to understand, so it's not really your fault. Giving all of you this knowledge would be like opening Pandara's Box and that is a risk I don't think I can take right now. As my therapist knew she would be needing to see me, so did one of my dearest friends, Heather. She booked her flight within a week of my miscarriage and flew herself and her wee-one here to Albany. That is love folks, to leave the warm warm south and come here to predictably cold Albany. What is even more of a testament of love is knowing when your friend is in need and coming to her rescue. She was very concerned though that the wee-one would make it harder for me, but really it has been great to have him here. I think of the extreme lost that she went through by loosing her first born son and I look at this little one of hers with such love. And I tell myself, if she can get through that and find the courage to move one, I can do the same. It's not that I am saying I can't move on with my life, but rather to move on with my life with the plans of trying for another pregnancy. That is the hard part because the thought of having to go through this again terrifies me the most.