Crying

So that's where I've been - crying.  


Crying almost every morning and night that I have to do the shots.  I dread waking up in the morning because I have to do the shots.  I hate going to bed because I have to do the shots.  Since I no longer do ab work in yoga I have a layer of pudge that makes shooting up a little easier but the medicine always burns and there's nothing I can do about that.  I grit my teeth but I cry when I accidentally hit a nerve and the pain runs down my thigh.  I cry less about the shots these days but it was pretty depressing in the beginning when I still hadn't had an ultrasound and I didn't have symptoms because I was convinced it was dead.  Thankfully, my attitude has improved but it still hurts - almost every time.  The devil on my shoulder says 'oh, just skip this one.  You need a break, this sucks!  What's skipping one time going to do?'  But I never skip, and sometimes I cry because I really want to.  


I cried until I got the first ultrasound showing me that it was there.  I cried at the next ultrasound when I saw the heartbeat because I'd been there before and I lost it shortly thereafter.  I cried at the next one when it was still there and I saw it move.  


I cried when my pregnancy symptoms went away, before I knew they were tied to the progesterone suppositories I was on and not the actual pregnancy.  I knew I'd lost it and I'd have to have surgery again.


I cried because Drew wasn't immediately over-the-moon excited and was too anxious to be as supportive as I needed.  It was hard enough to endure the physical pain of the shots and the constant fear of losing it again, yet I had to listen to him go on about money and how worried he was that we wouldn't be able to afford a baby.  It made me feel like he'd changed his mind, that he didn't actually want a child and I cried and cried.  I cried when we fought because I just wanted to be happy and I felt guilty for yelling, certain that I was killing my baby and I cried some more.


My only comfort in this is that nothing we're dealing with is brand new.  The anxiety and fear is pretty normal and on-par with pregnancy after loss.  There are message boards for everything under the sun - even one for Heparin!  I learned a couple of tricks to ease the pain and it's helped.  I also lurked on several message boards of women whose pregnancies are anything but butterflies and rainbows and I was comforted that I wasn't alone.


I cried over the guilt I feel.  I'm finally pregnant after miscarriage - I should be dancing in the street!  Nothing under the sun should get me down!  I should have nothing but a smile for everyone I meet!  But the dizziness, the nausea, the needle pain and the fighting made it so hard to smile.  I felt like I had no right to be sad - so many women would give anything to be able to carry a pregnancy.  Yet even for me, there are still no guarantees - loss can strike at any time.  Just because first-trimester loss is the most common doesn't mean it doesn't happen at other times during pregnancy.  Finally, the weight of everything just became too much.  I needed to step back, reassess and get a grip.  Yes it could be better, no it's not going to be this way forever, yes hormones are real and yes what I'm feeling is normal.  Still, the thought of loss remains a cloud that hangs over me and I try so very hard to ignore it and just celebrate each day I'm given.  


I've connected with this life inside me, we've bonded.  I'm the mom, even if I'm not completely sure what that looks like for me.  I'm searching for my smile and each time someone in my office asks me how I'm feeling or treats me softly, it comes out just a little.  It warms my heart to hear my dad talk about his grandbaby and the things they'll do together and a smile finds my face.


Nothing bad lasts forever.