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".