What Was That?

This morning as Jason and I are laying in bed and talking, as we do on the weekends, I tell him I'm going to sell my maternity clothes. I was figuring on selling all of them except the one shirt I really like and my blue sweater. If I were to become pregnant again, I'd want new things I think. Jason says "don't do that". What??? Come again?

This is why I'm confused. Last night we talked, for the first time all week really, about Where Do We Go From Here. I know I'd love to have another baby. I also know I don't want to do any tests that are "invasive". I also know that no matter what they discover, they can't offer me any guarentees. At the stage that I miscarry, there isn't anything they can do to stop it. So if it is going to happen, it will happen, and that's all there is. They can test my hormone levels more, and they can offer me some extra hormones, but that's about it.

Jason said he wants to think about it. He asked me if I could live through it. Well, yes, I can. Many women have lived through far worse than losing a lot babies early on in their pregnancies. I am a strong woman and I will always continue to be. We also decided that if we were to become pregnant again then we wouldn't be sharing that news until 10 or 12 weeks along. Simply because of when the miscarriages take place, by waiting longer, we won't have all the well intentioned sympathy that is so hard to deal with at times.

Jason told me he was unsure as to whether he wanted to try again. I have already told him that if he does not, we won't. This isn't just about me and what I want, it's both of us. I told him that until he was sure, he needed to make sure that condoms were handy, because by not doing, he was still making a choice.

And then the comment today. I know Jason would love another child as much as I would. He is so afraid of what another miscarriage will do to me. This time around the depression was so very hard. I'm starting to come out of it, I can see that. It's easier to be happy. It will always be there, but it's definately not so overwhelming any more. Which is good and means that I am healing.

I still think that I should sell some of my maternity clothes. I may need a larger size if I were to become pregnant, I highly doubt I'd need a smaller size. I also have no idea what season I would be pregnant in, so maybe i'd need all summer stuff. There is also the added benefit that they would probably sell pretty well on EBay, and I'd make some extra money.

I think I want to continue as though I'm not going to have any more children. That that chapter of my life is done. By doing that it leaves for very little disappointment when I don't become pregnant month after month. It seems to be the sanest way to go. A woman who is not going to be pregnant anymore would sell her maternity clothes. Why not the sweater and the shirt? I really like the sweater and still wear it, and the shirt is so nice that maybe I'll give it to someone. Oh, and there is a dress I made, and I'm not selling that simply because I don't think that it would sell well, being hand made and all.

Where do we go from here?

It's a simple question really, however the answer is not even close. What do we do now? This whole thing is taking it's toll on me. It really and truly is. I know i'm seriously depressed. I'm suffering, and I know my family is suffering as well. It hurts Jason to see me like this.

Being like this makes him wonder if we should even consider trying for another. There are no guarentees after all. He doesn't want me to go through this again, he doesn't want to go through it himself again. Both reasonable and understandable points of view.

Am I ready to be done? To say "that's it, no more"?. I was before we found out we were pregnant. I was really beginning to come to terms with not having any more children. That is why I was so shocked to see that positive test. I couldn't believe that that was going to take place. I should have suspected, and in all honesty I did suspect, that it wouldn't be as it advertised.

I don't remember it hurting like this in June. I had so much anger at that stupid nurse though. Maybe that helped vent it all, I don't really know. Right now I hurt. It's all I do know. I am in no way a functioning person. Oh sure I go through the motions, but I'm on autopilot, doing anything that requires even a little bit of thought just seems to be beyond my ability right now.

Jason is trying so hard to be there for me right now. To be loving and caring and supportive. This is all so hard for him too. And I feel so horrible to put him through this again. To have him suffer because I suffer. I am trying so hard to make it better, to heal, but it's just not happening. It's out of reach for me.

I love my children, I love my life, I love my husband. I know those are truths. But they seem to be figmants that I just made up to get me through this horrible place. Being actually sick on top of it all definately does not help.

When will the ache be less? When will I be able to do more than function? When will I have healed?

The next question that comes up is should I do the testing? Do I really want to know? After all, we DO have Izzy, so something has got to work between us. And I have been pregnant 4 times, so it seems that Jason isn't at fault, it's me, or it's the combination of the two of us. Are those questions that I want the answers to? That all leads me back to the beginning, where do we go from here? Are we done, or do we continue? And if we continue, what answers do we seek, if any at all?

The Thing About Change.

The thing about change is that it sucks. It's hard and horrible and it hurts and it just all around sucks. However, everyone has to have change. And that part makes it suck even more because you know that at some point in the future, at many points in the future, you will have to endure the change.

Many of us get stuck in a rut. It's comfortable in the rut. And if it's not really comfortable, it's familiar. And familiar is good. It's reassuring. However, as I have come to discover, that rut is damaging. It's self damaging. It damages your relationships. It's a hindrance and an inhibition. "I can't leave the rut, it is safe and familiar" is the mantra of the time.

One day, you wake up and you realize you've come to a place where you've packed on 40 or 50 pounds, you're sitting in front of the computer doing absolutely nothing worthwhile (is playing that video game really that fulfilling?), and your children completely trash your house. And all the while you think "why worry about, they'll just do it over again." or even "someone else will clean it, why should I bother".

Well, today that person is me. Replace all the you's with I's and you have where I have been for so long. Why am I in this place? Why am I so willing to stay?

I'll admit, it is so much easier to allow someone else to do all the work. We started out pretty equal. But now, I don't do much of anything. How is that? Why is that? Yes, I let him do it. I just slowly stopped doing, and he started doing more. And when I saw he was doing more, it was really easy to let him keep on going that way.

So today I have to face change. This time it is not being thrust upon me by some outside source. This time, the only one I have to complain to about the pain and misgivings of change is myself. After all, I wouldn't need to be in the place of change if I hadn't decided that the rut was a good place to be.

This change will come about slowly, don't expect me to be a domestic goddess overnight. However it HAS to come about, there is no putting it off any longer. If I am to get what I want to have out of this life, out of this relationship, then I need to step up to the plate and do my part.

Unfortunately, I'll be doing it reluctantly. I don't like work and effort. I'd rather sit here and play that video game. However as that is not an option, as my house is falling in to shambles around me, as my toddler runs rampant, the change is calling to me, begging me to get off my fat ass and do something about it all. And so I must.

And that is what I am going to go do, starting with catching that rampant toddler and making him a little more presentable to the world. After all, pj's are meant for sleeping in bed, not to be worn all day too.

The Deepest Darkest Blue

The deepest darkest blue seems to suit my mood right now. The baby is gone. I don't need a blood test tomorrow to confirm it, I'm living it right now. Having done this before, I know where I am, this is a place that I've been to before that I'd rather not visit.

It all started last Thursday evening. I helped Jason move the furniture in the girls' room so that I could work on getting the rest of it painted before Katy comes for the holidays. I didn't really move much at all, just the two beds, with his assistance. He moved the dressers all on his own. I started spotting. As I have been exactly where I am now, it worried me. So on Friday morning when it continued, I called the mid-wives. They ordered a blood draw for me, though they felt it was more for my peace of mind than any real neccessity. However when I arrived at the lab on Friday afternoon, no one was there. Apparently they all got Friday off early.

I worked all weekend, though oddly enough I had Friday night off. The spotting continued, gradually working up to being like a light period. I went for the draw yesterday afternoon. The numbers were 457. Definately not as high as they would normally like, especially being as far as I was, however up is good. So they tell me to come back on Wednesday. At work, I start bleeding and clotting. And here I am, in all too familiar territory again.

The Platitudes. Those are the worst.

"God won't give you more than you can handle. You can handle this." Well no shit Sherlock, I've "handled" it before, of coarse I can again.

"It's God's way". Who the fuck cares if it's "God's way"? I mean, really, what the Hell did I do to piss off "God" so much that "He" would have "His" way with me?

"It's the natural way of weeding out ones that would suffer." And you think I'm NOT suffering? Do you think that this pain and anguish that I feel isn't suffering? Can I shove your head in a tub of water and hold it under and then tell you that the pain you feel when your lungs start constricting and your vision starts to blacken isn't suffering?

"Cherish the children you have, they just mean that much more to you now." First off, how do you know that? Who are you to tell me how much my children mean to me? What suddenly makes this baby that no longer is less? What is it about the passing of this oh so desired child that suddenly makes my other children more? How does this even make sense? Secondly, who am I to put this kind of suffering and grief on my children? Do you think that they don't see, that they don't feel, that they don't understand what I am feeling? Are you really that assinine? Or did just plain stupidity hit you in the head when you woke up this morning?

Yes, I'm angry. By the way, that's actually ANGRY. Pissed off beyond all belief. Though I think that the anger is what gets me through. Cause other than the anger is the unbelieveable hurt and pain. It's so easy to just sit and wallow in the pain. To feel it wash over you in wave after wave. I think it's addicting, that pain. After all, that pain is justification. It's the reason for not doing, for not being. "I can't because I hurt" becomes the mantra.

That mantra is not mine to be able to take up. Because "I can't" just is not an option. Who would care for Izzy all day if "I can't"? Who would get the kids up for school and out the door if "I can't"? Who would do all the other myraid of stuff that I do if "I can't"?

The pain will ease as time goes by. It's amazing how time soothes all wounds. I don't think it really heals them. Your wounds are yours alone to heal. You can allow them fester and become putrid horrid things. Or you can allow them to heal and create scars that are shiny smooth reminders of where you once were. I know that in a month or so, this wound will be well on it's way to healing. The pain will be remembered, but not so fresh and raw. That is soothing and refreshing a bit because right now I am in the pain and it will help me get through.

Jason told me as he was leaving for work this morning "Don't give up completely, you are too strong for that." I know he meant about having another child. Our heart's desire is to have another child. A playmate for Izzy closer in age. Maybe a little girl to dress all frilly and cute, and Izzy to be oh so protective of. Maybe a boy for him to have as his wrestling foe and partner in crime.

We've wanted this for so long. 16 months of wanting and all we have to show for it is more anguish and hurt. More suffering and pain. More tears and even more fear than before.

I have been told that all I have to do is pray and accept and I will receive my heart's desires. What kind of bullshit is that? Is that what gets you through all the shitty stuff in life? Whatever works for you is great, but trust me, that won't work for me. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, stop crying and go forward. That's what I've always done. It's all there really is to do.

Part of me, ill-rationally I'll admit but still happening, feels as though I am failing my husband. After all, here is a man that loves me with his entire being. He goes to work every day to help support me and my children, only one of which is his by birth. He has accepted me and my children and my entire life as his. And here I am, unable to provide him children. Izzy is an amazing wonder. I love that boy dearly. Apparently, he is also a miracle. My husband has no problem impregnanting me, it's happened 4 times now. However, I have a problem growing his children.

Jason is the one who is strong while I grieve. While I wallow in my pain. While I scream and cry and am wracked with absolute sorrow. He holds me close, and then closer still while I lay there, barely even able to acknowledge him. I know he feels the hurt and the pain, however he sets that all aside for me. If I ever am in need of a hero, he'd be it.

Right now, I'm just writing to write. Maybe it will be cathartic. What exactly is "cathartic" anyway? I don't know, but it seems eloquent and so appropriate. Maybe I'll start a new blog. One to write just to write. Short stories and the like. But then I think, why can't I do that here? After all, this is my blog after all, why does it solely have to be about the family? I don't know, I'm at a loss right now, and the writing is soothing. That's what I do know. And as Forrest Gump likes to say "And that's all I've got to say about that".