Life Goes On

“I always hated when my scars started to fade, 

because as long as I could still see them, 

I knew why I was hurting.” 

― Jodi Picoult

The other day, my husband and I were reffing together. I was excited to see a female ref that I had reffed with quite a bit in the high school season. When we had a second she asked how I was feeling and I was surprised. I wasn't sick. And then she referenced the pregnancy. I would have been 22 weeks at that point. I told her about the miscarriage. It was obvious she was caught off guard. But I was caught off guard too. Because I forgot that I was a "victim." I forgot about the miscarriage. I forgot to have my defenses up. I just forgot.

And this is a good thing. It means I'm moving on, sort of.

The other night when I was feeling particularly bratty I told my husband that I wanted to just throw a fit because of the unfairness of it all and he said, "still?" 

Moving On

Last night as I was getting ready for bed I realized that it is time to put away the little box that I have kept on my nightstand with the little molds of the baby's hands and feet, the little blanket that she was wrapped in and the ultrasound photos that I couldn't bear to have up on the corkboard anymore. It's time.

I left them on my nightstand because I wanted to have my memories of that baby close to me. It's been 3 weeks today. It's time.

It's time to not feel sad anymore. It's time to not cry anymore. It's time to be open to what the world will offer. It's time to look to the future. It's time to be present in the present. It's just time.

And so today I took that little box off my nightstand and put it in the bottom drawer. I looked at the hands and feet, something I haven't done since days after delivery, and I didn't cry. I feel sorrow for the poor little baby that we dreamed of. I'm sorry that I couldn't make a proper body for that spirit to dwell in. I'm sorry for all the work I made for my husband and my daughter. I'm sorry for the grief that I have caused my family.  I feel like I'm missing out on some of the joys in life. But the time for regrets and sadness is past and soon a day will go by when I won't think about that little baby that we lost. And the time to start in now.

My New Nephew, Blade

My sister-in-law Kayla had her baby boy last Wednesday. He was almost 9 pounds and 22 inches long. He is very healthy and looks like their other kids. I am so happy for her and my brother-in-law Dallan.

We wanted to go see the baby. It is a time of joy and happiness. Family gets to share in these times. My husband said he knew it would be hard so I didn't need to go. But I don't want to be one of those women that can't share in other's happiness because of their own unhappiness. I don't want to miss out on the good times. So we went. 

I'll admit I was nervous. I thought when I held him it would make me sad. I didn't want to cry and rain on their parade. But I didn't. Once I saw him, I realized that this is their baby. I don't want their baby. I want mine. And so I was genuinely happy for them. And I'm glad I could share in their joy. I was glad to hold their baby. And I was glad to give him back. 

I realized again yesterday how much work newborns are and how tired you are taking care of them. It seems easy to be able to talk myself out of the fact that I want one. But I don't want just any newborn or any baby. I want mine. That makes it worth it. The doctor said one pregnancy cannot take the place of the last but I feel that this journey hasn't been about 6 different babies, it has been about getting a baby. I wish I could get to a place of peace when I think about stopping but I can't get there. So for now my journey hasn't ended.

Defining Me

Learn to enjoy every minute of your life. Be happy now. Don't wait for something outside of yourself to make you happy in the future. Think how really precious is the time you have to spend, whether it's at work or with your family. Every minute should be enjoyed and savored.

Earl Nightingale

Just in the past couple days I have felt what I don't want to call depression, but probably defines it correctly, creeping in on me. I have felt pretty good. I reffed 13 games this weekend. I did 4 more monday night. My body feels really good. My kids are happy. They are busy and I am busy running them around and making dinner again. My oldest son is playing lacrosse and my 9 year old is playing soccer. My daughter is trying track for her middle school. My little son just turned 5. My husband got a big promotion and is now branch manager at one of the biggest branches in the credit union. Very soon, his income will pay all our expenses. All these great things are happening and I'm not really finding joy in any of it. Intellectually I can see how good it all is but my heart just isn't in it.

I know that I didn't lose a child. I lost the dream of a child. I still have 4 wonderful kids that I know. I really get them. I can tell you how they will react in a given situation. I can tell you what their teachers and their friends think of them. I can tell you how much they weigh and how tall they are. I can tell you their favorite clothes that they wear and their favorite things to do. I can tell you how they make me feel when we talk and how kind and generous they are. When they'll get mad and how they'll react. I am really nervous now that one of them will die. If I keep acting like things are bad maybe I will get shown how bad they can really be. I worry that my husband will have a heart attack or die in a car accident. I think that maybe I am too ungrateful and that I will have to learn a lesson about that too.

I just want to lay in my nice, cozy, warm bed in my dark bedroom and stay there. I don't even want to cry anymore. This is really not me. I'm not a gloomy, feel sorry for myself type of person. And so I don't go to bed. I get up and clean because I have a home inspection for our foster care license coming up. I stay up and make dinner and gluten free bread and the muffins my family loves. I stay up and watch tv with my husband at night. I run my kids around. But I keep feeling like I'm missing something. The world just seems to have lost some of its color. I keep hoping that I will feel happy and that soon I won't have to make myself do this stuff anymore. 

I will run 5 miles again soon and often.

Losing this last baby and all the other miscarriages will not define me. I won't let it. I will get through this too and come out better for it. And I will be happy.

Hope

I had a doctors appointment yesterday which was really just a mental health evaluation. Its been 2 weeks since delivery. My doctor really is so kind. I told him that I was doing fine but he wanted to delve and didn't seem happy until he made me cry a couple of times. That's just how I felt but really I think he wanted to make sure I'm fine.
The thing that is causing me trouble now is the fact that I am making this journey with my husband. And that's not a bad thing, in fact, its a wonderful thing. He is a tremendous strength to me and he seems to be sane when I'm not. I love him and want him to be happy. That's the problem. I feel like I have inflicted all this on him. I feel like I am the cause of his grief. I know that I was the driving force behind trying again and again and again and again and again and again. I feel responsible because its my stupid body that keeps causing all the trouble.
I told this to the doctor and I cried because I can shoulder the responsibility for my own decisions but its really hard when it affects someone else so deeply. The doctor said that I should never feel bad for asking someone to have hope.
Is that what I'm doing? I'm not sure. I can't figure out what is the compelling me to keep trying. The doctor said just yesterday that my chances of having a miscarriage are more than 50%. That's not great odds considering that time and again I fall in the less than 1% category.  I don't need more kids. I know that 4 is plenty. I wonder if I would have been satisfied with the kids I have if I had never tried again. Am I just not ready to accept defeat? This sounds more like me. Is it selfish to keep putting my husband and my children through this? At what point will I accept defeat and say enough? My husband said just yesterday that I could talk him into it again. Do I want to do that? Is that fair? Men can always be talked into trying.
The doctor also said that I will be very fertile in the coming weeks. It seems I always am. That's never been my problem, I wish it was. He really wants me to keep going. He feels that it is entirely possible that we can have a healthy baby. He hopes for me to have a great outcome.
I hope that I can accept whatever it is that Heavenly Father has in store for me. I hope that I can get some answers soon. Mostly I hope that I can be happy again.

Happy Birthday Steel

Happy Birthday to my Steel. Thanks for bringing SO much

 happiness to our lives. I am thankful everyday for you. You 

make my heart feel good.