The First Step...

is admitting you have a problem.



I had a miscarriage this week.

There, I said it.



This is not my first miscarriage. I'm sure it won't be my last. But this has been my hardest. The first one, I didn't even know I was pregnant. In fact, I didn't even know I had had a miscarriage until months later when I had my second one, and the similarities were too many to dismiss. It wasn't "diagnosed", though, so I guess it doesn't really count.

The second one came a week after an unexpected, yet very pleasant surprise. We weren't even trying. We had one week of happiness and planning. Yet, in the back of my mind, I kind of figured that it might end. I wasn't really surprised when it did. Ryan took it harder than I did.

This one though. This one has hit me like 1000 tons of bricks. This one came after a year and a half of trying. A year and a half of fertility treatments, tests, doctor's visits, medications, prayers, good thoughts, etc, etc. We had one week of happiness and planning. It was still sinking in that the aforementioned things had finally worked. My cousin had a miscarriage the week before. I told everyone, including Heavenly Father, that I didn't think I had it in me to handle another miscarriage. I prayed and prayed and prayed that this one would stick.

I started cramping over the weekend. I didn't think much of it, after talking to a pregnant friend who was having the same issues. Monday, the cramping got worse. I could barely stand because of the pain. I kept praying my guts out that what was nagging in the back of my mind was not really happening. I had just resolved myself to take it easy until the viability ultrasound we had scheduled for April 1. It was just over a week away. I could make it until then.

I started spotting that night.

I sobbed as we tried to figure out what to do with Hailey while we went to the hospital. I sobbed when my friends came to help.

Then the dull ache came. I preferred the tears.

The sadness and tears come in HUGE waves. Huge waves, close together.

I don't answer the phone, because I can't talk about it without crying. I try to hold it together when I talk to people in person, but its hard. Then I come home and fall apart.

I want to sleep for a week, but can't sleep when I lay down at night. I have dreams that this is all just a bad dream. Then I wake up, and I'm in the bad dream.

I'm so grateful for such wonderful friends and neighbors who have offered whatever, whenever. And sent me their love and prayers. My husband has been amazing, and such a rock. I love him. My baby (who is not much of a baby anymore) gives me loves and cuddles all the time. She's very in tune and knows when I need them most.

Hopefully, with time, the waves will come farther apart, and I can get back to normal.