Friday, March 1, 2013

Aching

More than anything right now, I miss my baby. I desperately miss him. I ache with every cell. I know so many people have experienced miscarriage. I get that. I have heard loads of stories this week. I feel like a wretched human being for getting so frustrated with those people. They are simply linking the chain. They found someone they could share their pain with, and I in no way want to minimize the pain they experienced. Everyone's situation is different and this is a painful experience no matter the circumstances.

However, as unexpected as this miracle was, Espe was carefully planned and considered. We weren't like so many people that weren't ready or weren't planning on expanding their family only to be surprised. This little person has been in our hearts for a decade. We have gone through hell and back and would gladly do it again. Our hearts have been shattered time and time and time again 122 times to be exact.

We have known Espe through our hopes and dreams for ten years. We have anxiously waited for him to finally join our family. Hope has come and gone. That place that becomes your heart once hope has disappeared - I wish that on  no one. It is the darkest, loneliest place I have ever been and I am terrified at the thoughts of returning there.

Hubs actually reassured me last week in the middle of a particularly nasty meltdown with the notion that we had experienced so much heartache. We had already been through so much grief and we had been clinging to a thin line of faith for so long that surely God would not expect us to endure more. Surely this was finally the happy ending we had prayed so fervently and wholly for. The realization that He did indeed intend for us to walk this road, has been one of the hardest things thus far.

I'm trying. I'm trying to be positive and strong. I'm trying to look to the future. I try to tell myself just like the doctor and countless friends and family, that we have finally climbed the hardest hurdle. We know we can get pregnant now. Our past has jaded me though. I dread "trying". The only point of reference for me is so horribly disappointing and I don't know if I can go through that again.

We've tried to address that. For now we are going with a very short plan. We are going to set our sights for the next couple of months. There will be no doctors or medical intervention. There will be no thermometers or charts by the bedside, and we are both vehemently against scheduling bedroom sessions. I have a general idea of when things theoretically should happen. I kept hubs in the dark and he's happy with that. Even my idea is only an idea. I have no idea what my body will do or if it will even work again. We just decided that the moment the bleeding stopped, we would return to our new normal since my weight loss and perhaps amp that up a bit. I don't want any stress or tension again. We're just going to act like teenagers. Teenagers that pray fervently and ceaselessly for another chance at a miracle.

3 comments:

A Crack In Everything said...

Hi -- I'm here from LFCA.

My heart goes out to you. It's devastating. I know the fear of slipping back into that dark and hopeless place ... wanting to stay positive but also not brush aside the grief that's here now, because THIS baby still matters.

No advice -- just deep sympathies and wishes for better days ahead.

Heather said...

Thoughts are with you xxx

Chickenpig said...

Hi, I'm here from LFCA too.

I'm so sorry for your loss. I've been where you are and everything about it is hard. My heart is with you.