Disguist...

We went to a Halloween party put on by BIL's family in which a real pregnant woman dressed in a bloody smock and had a bloody head coming out of her stomach.

I wanted to vomit. Needless to say, we didn't stay long....

I should have known when I was greeted by my five-year old nephew who was dressed in a bloody clown outfit.

I guess I am a prude when it comes to such things.

I went home and had my breakdown, it was all too much for me to even try and comprehend.

When did Halloween become so grossly morbid?

Quick, someone hit me with a rainbow stick!

I want so much to have a baby, to have THIS baby. I wish I could be one of the numerous pregnant women I see walking around these days in the babygush haze that enables them to rub their belly, register with their spouses, talk about weird food cravings with their friends. Oh and the constant complaining about how uncomfortable it is to be pregnant. I can't even force myself to think of a complaint in my head (although I'm sure it helps that I'm not terribly uncomfortable). I think they should feel so grateful to be pregnant, sometimes hugely pregnant. I want to say to them, "enjoy it while you can"..because sometimes it's all you have. By the way, has anyone noticed that it seems like the Preggos are out in mass numbers? Dh says it must be the economy picking up and people feeling more secure with jobs. I stare at each and every one if them, wondering. I wonder if there are any doubts in their blissful little brains that could conceive of the idea that they might not get to keep what's been growing inside them. But I move my raincloud along, so as not to get their feet wet.
Instead I am walking around, in a constant state of TRYING to stay optimistic, trying to think of the future with the baby without getting my heart too set on it. I don't talk about pregnancy to my friends IRL much. They ask how I am feeling or make comments on how I'm growing. I just force a smile and say, "good" and "yes, I'm getting bigger". But when I'm alone, and the quiet slips in, the yearning becomes intense. I like being pregnant, but would like it better when I'm holding a live baby in my arms. This race is dragging on and on whilst I watch others cross the finish line into safety.
With all of the holidays still to make it through, January seems so far away...

Statistics...

I used to take comfort in the statistics. If they were low, I simply didn't worry about them. Heck, why would it happen to me? I was young, healthy, with the odds stacked in my favor.
But even with that, I rolled the dice and lost. So now, when I hear statistics, I don't take comfort in them.
I have been thinking about the H1.N.1 vac now for months. I did my research, consulted the docs and knew I had made the decision to get it. The reason being is that it is killing twice as many people as regular flu. The reason being I work with children and A is in school. The reason being it is killing pregnant women and toddlers. I don't care if it is 23% of these populations, why would I risk it? I could die. My baby could die (again), my son could die. Statistics are all well and good, until you are the statistic. And we have all experienced that. And 23% sounds a lot higher than 1 in 1,000, which is what stillbirth is.

I had the opportunity to get it today and so we did. Hopefully 2 weeks from now, we will have some protection, and maybe I can take some level of comfort in that.

Comfort.

The most comforting thing to me these days are the little kicks going on inside. They are snapshots in time of a live healthy baby inside me and I will cherish every moment...

Here's to the Mundane!

I have come to be very appreciative of my normal everyday routine.
It's funny how the hours and days can be used up in just doing the normal day to day stuff. I get up, shower, make lunches for everyone, make breakfast, get A ready to go, take him to school, stuck in bad commute (it's been really bad) to work, work for a few hours, come home, eat lunch, straighten up the house, work out, pick up A , make dinner, then get him ready for bed or on Tues/Thurs go to class, come home go to bed, then start all over. Weekends are filled with cleaning and laundry and grocery shopping. But I don't mind. It makes the time go by. I feel like I'm just biding my time until I get to hold my baby. It's so hard this waiting and unknowing that I'm glad I don't have time to stop and think. Because when I do, I start to freak out and get sad.

So here's to the mundane. And here's to my family, without them I fear I wouldn't have much of a purpose these days. Just gotta keep swimming....is it January yet?

Fear...

Paralyzing fear.
Much like the 'deadbaby.deadbaby.deadbaby.deadbaby.' background noise I used to hear when the grief was raw, running constantly through my head, getting just a little louder when no one was around, now has started the mybabycoulddie.mybabycoulddie.mybabycoulddie noise.
And lately, it's just a little louder, a little harder to ignore. And when it gets loud the fear sets in.
This is so hard.
Some days I wonder what the hell was I thinking? We have the perfect family. We produced the perfect son. He is handsome and smart, courteous and polite. How can we reproduce that? I have a live son and a dead daughter.
Who was I to tempt fate again?
I've been trying to stay positive and keep busy. I've tried to imagine what I want. But lately, it's just not working. I'm on the verge of tears most of the time when I find myself alone.
Who the hell was I to think that I'd actually get a live baby?
How can I find some of that hope back?