Other People’s Pregnancies

My high-school best friend is pregnant. She was so supportive and kind to me during my own miscarriage. But for some reason she keeps updating me about her pregnancy. She just had her first prenatal appointment. She told me all about hearing the heartbeat. I wanted to stab her.

I’m trying to deal with the agreement I made with Eric to not push the issue further and to wait for now. It’s not going well. There hasn’t been a single day in the past 4 days that I haven’t cried my eyes out. I’m not doing well and while I think I might benefit from counseling, I know that that will not fill my emptiness.

I’ve been working out a lot–well, not a lot, but more than I usually do. I’m trying to take care of myself. Partly so that I can feel good about myself again, partly because I want to be pregnant so desperately and I’m trying to be healthy and fit so that I can successfully carry a child again.

I was doing really well for the last few months. Now that soul-crushing hollow feeling is back. I just can’t even live with this.



I haven’t posted since going to the doctor for my follow up on Friday.
The U/S showed everything was clear.
I was reminded of my abnormal pap and that the scrapings he took showed a low grade abnormality still. I was told not to worry.

While I waited a girl came into the office. Very pregnant.
She talked about her holiday with the receptionists. She said she had just come from a big family dinner. “I’m so full!”
“Yeah! Full of baby!” said the perky receptionist.
I cried a little.
Eric decided we needed to celebrate my *relatively* clean bill of health as well as distract me from my emotions by watching Anchorman 2.
We had a good time. I’m glad I agreed to it.

I’ve already had my first period. It started 11 days after my D&C. I was excited at first. Then I cried. I’m empty and my body is just going through the motions again. I cried a lot during those 4 days.

We had previously agreed that we should take this opportunity to be more careful and prepare for life better. Now that everything is getting back to “normal” I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m never going to feel okay again until I have my baby.
I broke down and told Eric this. I didn’t want to, I knew it wouldn’t change his mind. He said he didn’t want to do anything rash–we need more time to make sure we can get back on our feet 100%. I was obviously hurt, but it’s not as though I expected anything else of him. We agreed to revisit the topic in June. 6 months from now. I knew he wouldn’t want to try again, but I was truly hoping that by April we could at least be on our way to conceiving our second child. Last night, though, we had sex. We didn’t use a condom. He pulled out. I told him that he can’t be that concerned about it if he’s not using protection. He just smiled. It’ll only be a matter of time…I hope.

I was excited for all the opportunities that have been presented to me and all the things that may come in the new year. Until this morning. I woke up and realized, first, that in 1 month it will be our second anniversary–which is wonderful, I’m so very lucky to have this man–and second, that this should have marked just about 7 months. That due date is creeping up on me and I’m feeling suffocated. This year will be full of anniversaries. The day I found out I was pregnant. The day I walked into the doctors office and found out I wouldn’t be having my baby. The day that I went to the bathroom after weeks of contractions and pain to find that the bleeding wouldn’t stop.

I expect a lot of pain and misery this year. I don’t know how I’m going to get through it.

Training in the Face of Loss

I’ve started my training with Intuitive Childbirth.
The coursework is brilliant and engaging and I’m having a great time.
It’s emotionally daunting sometimes and occasionally I need to take a mental health break before I am able to resume my reading, but it’s really feeling like it’s going to be worth it.

I’m planning to work on setting up a facebook page for my services later today and entering myself into various databases to try to find clients. I’m determined for this to work.

It’s definitely making me think about my own miscarriage a bit, although in a somewhat more clinical way.
I’m also finding that, the more I learn through this course, the more I learn about myself. I realize now that a lot of the things I thought I wanted have changed in regards to pregnancy and childbirth. In addition, there are still things I don’t know if I want. That’s okay. I’ve got time. Even though completing this course is giving me agonizing baby fever again and making me wish that I could just get back into it and start my family.

Apart from my occasional break downs during my coursework, I’m mostly doing really okay right now.

We were cleared for sex, which is still a difficult thing for me. It seems every time now I cry shortly afterwards. I can’t think of it as anything other than this is how babies are made. I hope to get over it soon. I feel awful about it.

My niece (6) and nephew (5) visited the other day.

I had assumed that they forgot about the pregnancy. I was mistaken.

My nephew came up to me while I was folding laundry and said “When is that baby gonna be here?”
He proceeded to “remind me” about the baby and how is mom said that I was gonna have one soon. I didn’t know what to say, but fortunately my mother stepped in with “Something happened to the baby so it couldn’t be here with us.” This was a sufficient explanation for him but he did announce “Oh, that’s sad. I like babies!”
It was sweet and innocent and not meant to cause any harm, but it broke my heart and I cried for quite a while.
It’s nice to know, though, that I can stop my crying without having to wait DAYS for my heart to heal. After a few hours I was back in working order, if only a little of my game.

My Apologies

I’m a little surprised at myself.

If I’m not mistaken it’s been at least 2 weeks since my last post.
Very out of character.
Let me explain:

When I undertook the Capture Your Grief project, I wrote down, in my journal, all the topics for each day.
Sometimes, I would take a moment in my day to look at those topics and think about what each one meant to me and what I could do to portray that.
To be perfectly honest with you all, just thinking about these things was enough for me. Something in me told me that I did not need to share with the world because this was my personal world and I was happy in it.
For the first time, I was feel genuinely content, like Lily and I could move on, separately but together.

I’ve also endured some absurdities lately that made it hard for me to bring myself to write.
I began looking for a job, even though I knew it meant that I wouldn’t be able to start school right away as I would need time to adjust. I felt that I needed to pull my own weight. I knew that my mother would be content with me just going to school and finishing that out, she is in no rush to push Eric and I out of the house.
I also know that, months ago, Eric and I agreed that he would help me with school while he was working, but I felt he would resent me if I was not working as well.

I landed a job as a waitress.
It was the worst idea I’ve ever had.
After my first 4 hour shift (which was only training) I had a meltdown and could not go back.
I still have not explained this to Eric. My mother is the only one who knows the whole story.
She assured me that she expected me to finish school first because she knew that, with my mental state, I would not be able to do both at once and that she was okay with that and suspected Eric would be as well.
She said that it wasn’t worth making myself feel sick over a job that I didn’t need to have when I had a wonderful family at home supporting me in my decisions.
I’ve felt crazy the past week or so because of this. My mental health is really strained and I am exhausted.

On the plus side, I’ve taken to baking. I’ve learned that I am excellent at making cupcakes. I’m thrilled. 🙂
In my need to feel like I’m useful, I’m doing things that I enjoy that also bring happiness to others.

I suppose I’ll leave you with an update and a promise of tomorrows.
I have an appointment with my OB tomorrow. I’m still getting spotting off and on. Tonight I had a huge gush of blood and then nothing. I’m hoping my ultrasound and bloodwork tomorrow look promising. I don’t know what to expect. I’m anxious to go back there again. I haven’t been there in over a month. To me it is still the place that took my baby away.

I’ll give another update tomorrow when I get the chance and know more about what’s going on.

I apologize for the hiatus.

Thanks for listening.

#4: Lily’s Legacy

While looking through the list of topics for each of the days of the Capture Your Grief Challenge I realized that, while some of them I was having a hard time coming up with ways to photograph what they mean, I still wanted to capture it in some way.
I’ve decided that, with some of my entries, I will include photos, some of them will just be letters to my daughter. I’m really excited for what is to come, so here it goes:


I miss you every day. You were only a part of my world for a very short while, but the imprint you’ve left on this world is remarkable.
When we found out you were coming, your father and I were thrilled and scared and excited. We knew you would be loved beyond measure by everyone in our lives, but we were fearful for whether or not we could provide for you. We were both young. We had no career and few aspirations. Life was slowly dragging by and we had nothing to motivate us. We were scared of life. We wanted to give you everything, and we knew you’d have everything you needed, but we wanted to do better.
Since you’ve left there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought about you. We’re devastated and if we could have you back we’d do it in a heartbeat. Pregnancy is rough, but I’d take all the pain and discomfort and worry in the world if it meant we could have you back safe and happy and healthy, here with your family.
But now, even though we’ve ended up with a child in heaven (or wherever it is that you may be right now, if only in my mind), we’ve learned so much about what we want for the future. The fear of not being able to provide for you has given us the drive to accomplish things. Your father and I are both going back to school. We’re working hard to buy a home. We’re planning on getting married soon.
I want to better myself for you. For all the times that I cried thinking that we would never find a way to support ourselves and be a real family. Your dad and I both want children so badly. We didn’t expect it anytime soon, even though the brief while you were with us was the best time of our lives. Now we have the opportunity to plan for the future. To provide the kind of life we wanted you to have for our future children.
The pain may fade some day but we will never forget about you. I promise you that all of my children will know, if not for their big sister, Lily, watching out for this family, we wouldn’t be where we are.
We will always love you, Lily.
You are always my little girl.

Love, Mama.

Jewels and Projects

I bought myself something nice yesterday.

If you recall, my mother had purchased me a gift card to buy maternity clothes with. When that failed, she told me to buy something nice for myself. I bought some new non-pregnant lady clothes.
Yesterday I felt lost. I wanted to commemorate Lily in a way that was personal to me.

I stumbled into the BonTon jewelry section. Not entirely sure what I was looking for, possibly something symbolic like a lily or a diamond (her birthstone), but really just looking for something that spoke to me.

After a bit of searching I found these beauties:


Something about it just felt right. I don’t know what it is, but I’m wearing them religiously and they bring me so much peace.

After I left the store I immediately put them in.
Shortly thereafter, one of them fell. I was heartbroken.
That’s an omen if ever there was one.

Luckily, after looking at the seemingly broken earring, I discovered that the dangly, hummingbird portion was held onto the post by a loop that had gotten bent. I was able to bend it back into shape and now my earrings are flawless.
Handcrafted and one of a kind. Just like my Lily 🙂

In other news.
I’m starting this:
The Capture Your Grief Project

Head to the link to see the brilliance for yourself.

Every day I find myself getting further and further from my devastation. I’ll never leave Lily behind completely, but it’s good to feel closure.

I’m not going to follow this project too closely, but the ones that speak to me will be done. It seems meaningful and will provide me with an outlet and memories of my little girl.

Never Have I Been So Wrong

In my last post, I thought that I had seen the worst of my miscarriage experience.

Until last night. And this morning.

The physical and emotional pain were killing me.

Yesterday, I was in pretty okay shape. We went and helped my dad a little, we got some things moved out of the apartment and we had a good time overall.

That night, about 7:00, we were still at my mothers, just kind of hanging out and chatting.
I started getting contractions again as I was trying to get my laundry together.
My mother insisted I sit down, got me a heating pad, and folded the laundry (she’s a saint).
This went on for what seemed like ages, but was really probably maybe an hour, a little more.
Finally I went to the bathroom. I felt the blood. It was alarming. Much more than the previous night.
I passed a lot of small clots and even discovered a small, smooth looking spherical *something* I have no idea what these things coming out of me are.
By 8:30 or so I was feeling a little better, so we got in the car to come home.

I had about half an hour at home before it started again. Not as bad, but terribly sore and ache-y. I passed quite a bit of blood. I hardly slept all night. I woke up several times in pain and needing to use the bathroom and change my pad.

This morning I was sore, but mostly okay.
I did a little bit of cleaning and then the contractions started again. This time for almost an hour again, but nothing productive. There was very little blood and no clotting.

The pain has been on and off all day, but there hasn’t been much blood. I still don’t know if this means I’m almost done or if I still have more to go.
Until today, I don’t think I truly knew the depth of the emotional pain and turmoil I can expect from a miscarriage.
Last night, the pain was bad enough that emotionally I felt next to nothing until it started to subside.
On the way home from my mothers, I cried. A lot. Eric could do nothing. I felt bad. I wanted his help. I’ve never felt so lonely.

During the night,  I was tired and in pain, so emotions were nil. I felt okay, I just wanted the pain to stop.

By this morning I was tempted to call the doctor for some good pain medication. Tomorrow I’m supposed to spend the day moving. Driving back and forth, hauling boxes, dealing with family.
Honestly, I partially wanted medication to dull the emotional pain as well. I’ve been numb all day. It’s killing me.

I was supposed to spend the day packing. Eric was at work and tomorrow morning we have a lot to accomplish. Shortly after my pain subsided this morning, I thought I would be okay. When we got in the car for him to go to work, I started sobbing again. As I was driving it was all I could do to not stop by the gas station for cigarettes. I haven’t been a “smoker” in a little over a year. Some days are harder than others.

I didn’t accomplish much today.
The bathroom and the kitchen are pretty well boxed up, but that’s about it.
That didn’t even happen until about an hour ago when I got a call from Eric that cheered me up a little, so I had some motivation.

I sat in bed, wrapped in my robe, heating pad on my belly. Intermittently bursting with tears.
I perused forums and blogs and articles about miscarriage. I spoke to other women who had suffered a blighted ovum.
I learned the ways some women commemorate their children.
Within the past few days I’ve even discovered my baby’s name.
It’s Lily.
I’ve known for almost as long as I knew I was pregnant that I was pregnant with a little girl. I could feel it. It feels appropriate now to refer to her by her name.


I’m still trying to find the right path through my grief.
I don’t want Lily to be forgotten.
I feel like I’m the only one who feels the loss. I know Eric is slightly disappointed, but he’s over it, apart from having to see me in physical and emotional pain, he feels okay, he wasn’t attached.
Everyone else is “sad for me” but not sad for Lily. They don’t even know her name. They didn’t feel her presence.

I think that, at the very least, I soon will get a ring or a necklace with her name on it.
I’m leaning towards a necklace, so she can be close to my heart.

I’m really feeling this for the first time.


It was the hardest thing, sending Eric off to work today when the only thing I wanted was for him to be there with me.

I feel miserable. I don’t want this anymore.


As of yesterday at about 10am, I have closure.

I woke my boyfriend and we showered and dressed for the day at 9am. At 9:45 we headed for the OB/GYN.
As we drove there I asked him for confirmation that I wasn’t crazy. I didn’t feel sad. I was a little nervous and of course I was hoping to go in there and see that little flicker that says that I’m pregnant, but after my waning symptoms and my high hCG but no clear ultrasound I was not optimistic. Eric assured me that it was perfectly fine. I had taken the appropriate time to think things through and I knew not to get my hopes up. I was being a reasonable and level headed person.
Toni, the ultrasound tech, was the same woman who had done my last one. She vaguely remembered my face and asked me to go into the last room on the right and undress from the waist down. My information was already all up on the screen, including my LMP and “Due Date” as though that meant anything anymore. Despite not expecting anything, I took in every image I was seeing on the screen, hoping to see something. Still nothing. No surprise there.
Toni was much kinder this time. Before she started she asked if I had had any bleeding or cramps I told her no, but that my symptoms were starting to fade and that I wasn’t expecting any changes. It was all over in less than 10 minutes. Probably much less than that, although when you’re staring at a screen straining to see a baby that doesn’t exist you don’t have much sense of time. Toni began printing off different angles to show the doctor and as she was doing so she said that she did not see any change from last time and that there was clearly no fetal pole. She asked about my blood tests, I told her that my levels were 43,000 on Thursday, but that I had yet to hear back about my second test (I ended up getting them drawn Tuesday morning. Both myself and my doctors all forgot that Monday was a holiday). She told me to dress and she would give me my papers to head upstairs to see the doctor. As I left her downstairs office, she said that she was unsure what the next step would be, but that she might see me again next week to check for any progress. She wished me good luck and I was on my way.

Upstairs, the receptionist took my papers and sent me to the bathroom for a urine sample. There were no other women in the waiting room at the time. I was grateful. I waited for maybe 6 minutes and then was called back to see the nurse. She was an unpleasant woman, she seemed grumpy, but maybe she was just having a bad day. As I sat down to have my blood pressure read, she went into the office across from me to use the computer, she kept glancing at me. Her stare seemed icy but maybe I’m imagining things. After she sent me into the office, it was only a few moments before Dr. Allen arrived to speak to me. In the time that we were waiting, I discussed with Eric one last time what our options were and confirmed that he was on board for waiting to see if things would happen on their own.

Dr. Allen was a tall, thin woman with a kind face. She was not overly formal. She introduced herself and the very next thing out of her mouth was “So, things don’t look good.” She apologized, but not in a pitiful way, and explained what we were seeing on the ultrasounds (a whole lotta nothin’). She went over our options again and explained that she rarely likes to give out the vaginal suppository as she’s seen a lot of women try it and have horrible experiences, but that if I did want it she was willing to prescribe it. After explaining everything she asked what we thought we’d like to do. I explained that we’d had about a week to think about it and discuss things and we’d like to see if we can do this on our own and then if nothing happens, revisit our options. She seemed to very much like this idea and she said that it was a wise choice. We’re supposed to call her if anything happens. If nothing changes in two weeks, we’re supposed to call and schedule an ultrasound (just to make sure) and to think about medical management.

As we left, Dr. Allen told the receptionist the basics and she said to me “Okay, Nicole, you’re all set and we have you scheduled for an annual exam in December.” Then she looked at me with this pitiful face and said “Good luck” and “Call us if you have any questions at all.” That was the worst part of the whole visit. We had known about this for almost a week. It was too late to pity us. But she didn’t know that. I wanted to be sad, but I just wasn’t. When we got home, I had coffee. The first time in a month. I didn’t feel like I had to avoid it anymore. There is no one counting on me to shelter and care for them for the next 9 months. It’s kind of freeing, but I know that, until this is officially over with, I won’t be able to go back to normal. There’s still this feeling like I’m pregnant and need to be on my best behavior. Eric made me toast when we got home, I had not eaten enough and I felt sick. I broke down, just a little. I think realizing that what I ate no longer had any impact on anyone but myself was the thing that made this a little scary, as strange as it sounds. He held me for a couple minutes and then I was better.

As of now, we’ve actually been feeling so much better. We’re very excited to wait. As much as we wanted this child, we now have the chance to plan better for our next one. I’m going to be heading to cosmetology school in a couple months like I’ve always wanted. Sometime within the next couple years, after I find a job in the field, Eric will be returning to college to get his degree. I’m looking for at least a part time job that I can do while I’m at cosmetology school. We’re planning on, while living with my mother, saving at least half of his income and all of mine (if/when I find some) so that we can save for a house and hopefully a better car. We’re really optimistic. It’s great to have a second chance.

As for all the baby stuff that people have been slowly giving to me, I just found out today that my good friends (married young adults who have educations and careers!) may be pregnant, so if that’s the case, this baby stuff will not sit in a box for the next few years. It’s bittersweet, and I’m sure my grief is probably not entirely over with, but I’m feeling very good about this, in spite of all our hopes and dreams.


An Apology and An Unfortunate Update

Sorry to have been gone so long. I intended to post on the 29th after my ultrasound, but was unprepared for what was about to happen.

I went in for my ultrasound expect, at the worst, to have my date pushed back a couple weeks (given my long cycles, I don’t believe that I ovulated when they expected me to, so my dates may be confusing). I arrived and was given an abdominal ultrasound at first. Unfortunately, having been so constipated for so long, we could not see anything through all the blockages so I needed to switch to a transvaginal wand. It was mildly uncomfortable, but it was nothing compared to the difficult the ultrasound tech seemed to be having. She told me that she was having  a hard time finding my uterus (confusing, considering that this woman has been with the practice for 20+ years) and once she did she simply asked “Have you had any irregular bleeding or spotting?” I knew exactly what she was suggesting, and I assured her I had not. I was FURIOUS, you can’t simply tell me nothing and then ask if I may have miscarried. I had no idea what to expect from my ultrasound, so I was not sure what to look for, but from the sounds of things, it didn’t look good. She printed out some pictures and sent me off to the waiting room to talk to my midwife.

I met with a midwife who was a very nice lady. She started to explain a little bit about what was happening. Evidently, they could see a yolk sac, but no baby. After that she told me that we would do some blood work and check my hCG levels to see if everything seemed okay, but that I would have to come back on Tuesday to have another ultrasound and see the OB. The midwife took our medical and family history’s and continued on with the appointment as normal. She gave me an entire tree’s worth of pamphlets on what to do and not do during pregnancy and all the things I could expect in my upcoming second trimester. After that was done and she had completed my PAP and breast exam, she sat down to explain things further.

I was told that there’s a chance that I may not be as far along as I thought, which would explain a yolk sac, but no baby. There’s also a slight risk of ectopic pregnancy, but that’s unlikely given that the yolk sac is growing in my uterus and, to quote the midwife, “things usually don’t grow in two places, but you never know.” The third, and seemingly most likely scenario is a blighted ovum. Mind you, this term was never used while I was at the office. I had to learn most of what I know about this at home on my computer. The midwife said that if that were the case, then I had several options. Either a D&C to remove the tissue from my uterus surgically (as when they do an early abortion), I could take vaginal suppositories to make my uterus contract and help speed things up, or I could wait to miscarry naturally. Up to this point, no one had used the word “miscarriage” to describe what was happening to me. The midwife seemed so nonchalant. I was a little angry, I couldn’t understand why she was so calm when my world felt like it was falling apart. In hindsight, I’m sure she’s seen this a million times, it’s not her body or her baby, it doesn’t affect her. I held back tears until she left the room. Eric rushed over from his chair to hold me while I sobbed and apologized. Nothing seemed real. I didn’t want to be alive. I certainly didn’t feel like going out there to make another appointment and head to the hospital for blood work. Eventually, I calmed enough to go to the front desk. The midwife said that Tuesday’s are surgery days, so if I think that there may be any chance that, if need be, I would want to do the D&C, I should avoiding eating after midnight before my appointment so they could get me in as soon as possible. At first, before we had researched, but while we were on our way to the hospital. Eric and I discussed what we might want to do. We initially agreed that the surgery might be the best option.

When I went for my blood work, we did the normal full panel of pregnancy blood work. Naturally, that meant that the woman who drew my blood new that I was pregnant. She congratulated me and talked to me about her own children. I wanted to die. I hoped I would bleed out right then and there so I wouldn’t have to hear anymore of this. I went home, did some research, visited my mother, and cried.

I stumbled upon misdiagnosedmiscarriage.com It was full of stories of women who, like me, were told that they may have an inviable pregnancy and they were even pushed to D&C despite the nagging feeling that something was not right about it. These women waited weeks, some even a month or more, before finding out that they were, in fact, having a healthy, normal pregnancy. There are disclaimers on the site stating that this is not the norm. In fact, blighted ovum is responsible for 50% of early pregnancy loss. My first thought was to educate myself as much as possible so that I could hope and pray that my baby was okay. As time went on though, I’ve been realizing that I’m likely giving myself false hope and preparing myself for misery.
As of yesterday, I’ve realized that my symptoms are fading. I have not been sick (save for anxiety nausea) and my breasts are no longer unbearably sore. Last night I slept comfortably without a bra on. I’m trying to convince myself that maybe I’m just getting far enough into my pregnancy that my discomfort is subsiding, as it sometimes does, but part of me feels that that is simply not the case.

I’ve been devastated by this. Two nights ago, I cried for 3 solid hours. Inconsolable. I simply wanted my baby back. I didn’t want this to all be for nothing. As I’m just wrapping my head around the idea of actually enjoying being a mother, it’s being taken from me. I don’t know how you get over that.

Fortunately I have a wonderful mother who has 4 children with 2 miscarriages in between. Although it’s different as she already had children when she miscarried, she has been a wonderful source of support and information. Unfortunately, Eric and I had to have a big fight over this before we were able to get it out in the open and discuss how we both feel about it. He’s seemed so unconcerned and it kills me. Then, last night, I found out that he had told his friend Matt (whom I have a strong distaste for anyone and have specifically requested that Matt stay out of anything involving me). We had already agreed that we would tell no one except my mother until we knew more. I was livid. He thought I was crazy. I told him that if he wants to talk about it then at least let me know because I am thoroughly lost on the fact that he seems to not care. He said he can’t share this with me because he’s afraid to upset me, he doesn’t want to see me cry for hours on end when there’s nothing he can do about it. I understand the logic, but I tried explaining that I would feel much better if he were to seem like he cared, so I didn’t have to be so alone in this. I explained that I feel like a failure, I’ve been so afraid for so long that I would never get pregnant. Now I have and I failed. I don’t want people to know that. At least not yet. He was sympathetic. He cried with me. He admitted his fears and we held each other. I felt much more at peace. As of today, at 7:12pm, I have yet to cry over this again. It’s confusing, but knowing that I’m not going through this alone, and being able to talk to my partner about it makes it less scary. I don’t feel like I have to dread what comes next.

I’m still terrified. I’m filled with guilt and fear and worry. Monday I get my hCG levels checked again. With any luck, they’ll continue to rise and things will be looking up. Tuesday is the ultrasound. I refuse to D&C. I realize how slim the chance is that, if they find nothing on Tuesday, I will still end up with a baby, but I cannot let them take that from me through force. If I were to have any medical intervention to speed up the process, I would forever be wondering if maybe, had I waited just I little longer, would I have had my baby after all?
I’m starting to lose hope. I don’t want to yet. It’s hard to convince myself to keep taking my prenatals and to take care of myself as though I’m confident in my pregnancy. I want to drink and cry and let go, but I can’t let myself do that yet, no matter how hard it is. I’m afraid that if I lose hope, then the baby is gone for certain. I’m also afraid that, even if they find nothing and I’m just waiting to miscarry, I’ll be trying to treat myself as though I’m pregnant in hopes that maybe I won’t miscarry after all only to be further destroy when the day finally comes. I plan on getting a second opinion and a new doctor, no matter what happens. I cannot just sit back and wait for something that I’m not sure of.

My updates may be few and far between, but I assure you I will keep going with this. I plan to update on the status of my baby, body, and psyche. The idea of this blog was to let people know what to expect. That doesn’t stop just because things get hard.