It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake.

(Wednesday April 17th 2013)

As soon as the rain started my mind didn't even have a moment to think. I grabbed my keys, jumped in my jeep and drove to the nearest open field. I've been so numb the last couple of days, I think I needed to stand in the rain to feel alive. Or maybe I was hoping I'd get hit by lightening. Either way, I wasn't thinking I just acted. You can judge and think to yourself  "oh that girl, she needs some mental help" Think what you will but you have not walked a second in my shoes. I choose to do what I do to survive and if you choose to judge me, that's on you.

It felt good to just stand in the rain, feel the cold drops hit me in the face and just cry. I haven't felt this numb in a while. It's an odd feeling to know your heart is pumping, your blood is flowing but you feel completely dead. To have hope taken from you and your husband for the 7th time. To get kicked in the gut and your future ripped from your hands, yet again.You get angry, really angry. It doesn't matter that it wasn't your fault or that baby just couldn't develop any more and apparently hearing that it can and would happen to anyone is supposed to help you....It doesn't. You feel broken and you wonder why life is so unbelievably unfair to you and your husband. 

Today is a terrible day. Knowing you'll lose the baby you are carrying inside you, while having to take someone's order for a baby shower cake at work. It takes everything you have to hold it together. When all you want to do it throw stuff across the room and run home. To know that at the ultrasound you have scheduled tomorrow, the tiny flicker you saw last time will no longer be beating and you'll see nothing moving on the screen. To be asked early that morning if you're pregnant yet and you muster up a smile and say "nope, not yet" When you just want to cry and say "I'm am, but not for long."  To pack away the maternity clothes you bought because you were already starting to grow out of your normal clothes. You knew you would, who wouldn't after getting pregnant for the 7th time. Then you realize you knew all along it was too good to be true, you guys aren't that lucky. For it to happen first cycle after surgery, for your hcg betas to rise correctly and you both were so excited. You couldn't wait to tell people because you thought it would be your turn, finally.... but you couldn't because you always lose them. Life isn't nice to us, we should have known better. Even though we do, it still hurts like hell and you know someone out there knows you'd fail at it again. Or at least expected you to.

And you know for the next few months you'll watch those that were due around you, grow big and you wish you were with them. You'll watch them have their babies and know yours would have been around that size. We're used to that, that's just what our life is. Full of visual reminders of the ages of all the children that should have been but never will be. Forgive me if I can't show up to your baby shower, I'm sorry I have to be selfish. I will never be strong enough to do so.

I've worked so hard for this, I do every thing right. I research about how to raise a healthy child, what you should and shouldn't do during pregnancy. I'd gladly show my butt cheek to the nurse to receive my 17p shot every week, the bi weekly cervical checks, travel to Chicago get an operation for the tac, take my baby aspirin, my folate, stay away from caffeine, don't touch cleaners at work, make sure not to lift heavy buckets, take vitamin c and e to hopefully strengthen my water bag because I fear it breaking and a million other things. I'd do all that again without a second thought but I'll never get to. My heart doesn't think it can try again. I don't think I can put my husband through this again. Watch his face light up when I surprise him with the announcement and then eventually the light fades and you hear what he had to deal with at work. And he couldn't handle it. You feel silly to ever think things would be ok. You did everything the way you were "supposed" to. You got married, bought a house and tried to have babies. Been married for 8 years and tried  a year after you were married. You watch everyone else get married and have babies and you're trying hard. Doing all you can, working so hard at it and each time you fail. It really beats a person down. 

Then you have to tell your mom. You know she'll be hurt, and you're afraid she expected it too. You'll wonder if anyone will ever think you can do it. Then she tells you "I'm your Mom, don't tell me not to worry about you.  I love you with all my heart, and I don't know how you do it. You've certainly inherited your grandmother's quiet strength. You don't even know you have it." You certainly feel anything but strong. You feel like you've let her down. You can't give her any living grandchildren. You've only given your parents and your inlaws heartache. Then your husband has to call his mother. She already made blankets and bought baby clothes. She's done it for you a few times before. You fear she'll give up on you too. That she expected loss as well, because that's all I've given her. You feel like a complete failure. 

And then you talk with your husband. Neither of you can do this again. You figure you'll just go through life like a zombie waiting until you pass away yourself. Or do you keep trying and killing yourself over and over in hopes that one of these times it will happen. But how many times will it take? He tells you he can't stand to see you poked a prodded.  Can't stand to see you get your hcg levels checked every 48hrs and then you both wait by the phone for the nurse to tell you if they've doubled. Can't watch you jump on the ultrasound table again and hold your breath until something shows on the screen. Then you are either happy or let down, most likely let down. Then you're pissed because you don't understand why it's so difficult for you. You feel terrible for your husband because you wish he married someone else, he wouldn't know this pain and he would most likely have children by now. He's a great dad and he deserves to parent children, he'd be damn good at it. He'd cherish things most people probably take for granted and he'd appreciate the cries because it means they're alive. 

You're stuck. You don't know what to think. You know your mind will do what it has to, to protect you. It's amazing what the brain does to move you through grief. You'll be numb and then eventually the waves of grief and sadness, jealousy etc will come. But your mind will only allow so much at one time. You'll crack once in a while. You'll yell at your husband for something that doesn't matter just because you want to yell. You'll throw the phone or throw something outside. You'll stop cleaning your house. Maybe you'll quit giving a crap about how you look, because it takes too much effort to put makeup on and curl your hair. Your brain can only do so much at once. 

I imagine by now, you realize we're miscarrying another child. One that was supposed to make their debut in November this year. It was too good to be true. Getting pregnant for the first time naturally, no fertility meds..nothing. Just a surprise, first cycle after tac. Everything looked ok for a little while and then you're excitement was taken away and you had to wait in limbo for news. So please, I ask that I no longer have to hear "are you pregnant yet." We're telling you of the miscarriage so you hopefully understand how painful it is to hear those words. I truly appreciate where they come from, I know it's from excitement and support. I really do know that. But right now it hurts too much to be asked that. We're not sure if we'll try again. It's too hard to think about that right now. I don't want you to offer me your children, or talk to me about adoption or other options. I know it's really just because you care and you want us happy but my heart can't deal with that at the same time. Please don't tell me how you think this is a part of god's plan. This loss has nothing to do with the tac, it was before the 2nd trimester, nothing to do with my past or any problems I had, nothing to do with how healthy or unhealthy you think I am. Apparently baby just couldn't continue to grow and develop. I guess it can and does happen to anyone. It doesn't mean I'm broken, though I absolutely feel that way. Doesn't have a single thing to do with any of my past or history. I feel the need to point that out because I know that's the first thing people think. Or you'll think for some reason the tac failed. The tac has nothing to do with 1st trimester losses.

 I love you all for being my cheerleaders and for constantly holding me up when I couldn't do it myself. I've secretly kept all your motivational words that you've messaged me in the past or posted on fb. I look at them when I need a lift. When you feel like a failure and you read a message where someone compares you to a phoenix or tells you they know how you feel. The one that tells you they know defeat isn't in your vocabulary. You read them and you wonder if they know the same women you do. You do not feel like the girl they are talking about. You just hope you can get there again someday. Hope is a powerful thing and when you no longer have it, there isn't anything worth living for. I have never struggled this much for something in my life. Never fought so hard for something and It feels extremely unreachable. 

You take one day at a time, sometimes one minute at a time. Pick yourself up off the living room floor. Change your wet, rainy clothes and drink a mountain dew because that's your form of self destruction. Then sleep because you know tomorrow will be difficult when you see the empty ultrasound screen and know that once again your hopes and dreams will leave with the baby you had inside.