9 weeks

I was 9 weeks yesterday. Unfortunately DH and I are going through some stuff. He fucked up and while it isn't necessarily a deal breaker its not something I'll forgive right away. I'm so worried about the stress its having on the baby. I know too much stress can make you miscarry...Trust me, after the last time I've done the research and I know what can and can't make you miscarry. I get so worried about worrying that I get more worried and I can't stop. I feel lost in stress and hurt feelings and that's the last thing I was surrounding my unborn child. All I want to do is cry but I know I have to hold it together and somehow deal positively with the stress but I don't know how. Usually I have coffee with a friend or a glass of wine or a hot bath but I can't do any of those. I don't trust myself to have just one cup of coffee without restarting the habit. Obviously wine is out of the question and we haven't had hot water since last Tues. Hopefully our new water heater can be installed today but with the shitty week I'm having I'm not going to hold my breath. All I want to do is hide. I wish I could get a motel room somewhere just to be by myself for a night and take a hot bath and relax. But we can't afford it! Why? Because they are redoing our floors this week from where the furniture company's movers scratched them with our appliances while moving them in. The furniture store will only pay to fix the front two rooms but then the floors wouldn't match throughout so we had to come 900$ out of pocket for their effing mistake. AND we are getting a new water heater and I've missed a week of my babysitting job. We just finished paying off my credit cards and all I wanna do is run to the mall and have a shopping spree. Anything to make myself feel a little better. And all I can think about is Lima Bean and trying to get myself together for him or her.

Hopeful

Sunday was another difficult day. We had a BBQ at our house and my girl Sarah brought her new puppy because she didn't want to leave it home. I was nervous about how our dogs would relax and amazingly they were fine! Seeing her was hard because I kept wanting to hold and rock her but I knew she'd have to leave so I tried not to. After they left I got a little teary again...same old ish, wanting to be a mother to something, even if its a puppy! Husband said we could get one but I still don't think its fair to our pack...

And after a little while of sitting outside in the dark by myself I decided I was tired of acting like this. Its time to move on and stop wallowing. I called Army One Source and got approved for some counseling sessions. That act made me feel hopeful and empowered...like I can and will move forward.

Yesterday I was supposed to call for an appointment but didn't. I had an overall good day and even Husband commented on my cheery mood when he got home from work. We were watching Intervention and this lady was addicted to meth and alcohol. Turns out she'd had eight miscarriages and it was her way to cope. Husband thought I'd be sad and started to squeeze my hand. I wasn't sad per say, I was empathetic toward her situation and realized that moving forward is an important step in my healing process.

I do want something to mother ... and a puppy may still be an option but I'm not necessarily in a rush for it.

One of the worst parts...

Is that I still think I look pregnant. I hadn't put on a lot of weight but I still can't button my jeans. Some people probably think I look fat but I feel like I look pregnant since all the weight is below my bellybutton and that's not where I usually gain. I hate looking at myself in the mirror. Whenever I catch a glimpse of my stomach I remember how happy I was when it started sticking out the tiny little bit it does now...how I felt my stomach and was glad it felt hard and not hard from muscle anymore. I can't wait till I look back to normal. Maybe then I'll feel back to normal?

Right now I hate myself for acting the way that I am...but I'm not sure how else to act. I know I'm glum and moody and sad and uncaring. I know those aren't necessarily good things to be- especially not all at once! But I don't feel like I have much to smile for. I feel like being sad and moody is the only way I can be in this situation. Husband says I need to move on and when I start being myself I'll feel better. How can I be myself after something like this? Will I ever be "myself" again?

Its not fair

Its not fair that I lost my baby. I did absolutely everything the doctor told me. I was vigilant with bedrest. I laid down except to walk my dogs out and sit down with them outside. I didn't lift, strain, have sex, smoke, drink, stand for a long period of time, or change the cat litter. I didn't eat lunch meat, hot dogs, fish, raw steak, or under cooked eggs. I did everything the doctor said and I still lost my baby. One of Husband's buddies has a GF who is pregnant and she's still smoking at 9 weeks. How is this any kind of fair?

Being pregnant renewed my sense of faith. I prayed for my baby to be healthy and for Husband and I to be good, supportive parents. I prayed for my baby more then I've ever prayed in my life...and yet I still lost my baby. And mostly, I thanked God for the miracle of being pregnant. Now I'm struggling with my faith. How do I continue with my faith when I feel God was spiteful?

Everyone tells me that I'm young and to keep trying. But if we keep trying and this is an ongoing thing how will I stay strong enough? I'm not sure I'm strong enough to repeat this.

Too Good To Be True

The week after I found out I was pregnant I had a bleeding spell. I ended up in the ER and after an ultrasound and about a billion tests they determined it was "threatened miscarriage." Apparantly any type of bleeding during pregnancy is called a threatened miscarriage. I was told to get in bed and stay in bed. The beginning of bedrest...
The following week my doctor told me to keep on bedrest..
And the week after that, week 7 of pregnancy, I had another threatened miscarriage. The bleeding was much more heavy and red and I was sure then that I was loosing my baby. The ultrasound yielded positive results and I was put on more bedrest. That was my third week of bedrest and it was starting to wear on my last nerves. My house was a mess and I couldn't do anything about it. I was super bored and my only bridge to the outside world was my husband who was tired of not having help. He'd come home from work and have to fix dinner, walk the dogs, and do basic chores and I know he was exhausted.
We were so excited when I got put on a resting schedule soon after.

I went for my first scheduled sonogram as I entered my tenth week. I was so excited to leave with a picture of my baby. The doc put the cold goo on my tummy and started pressing but couldn't see anything. So she decided to use the "wand." The wand is nothing magical...its a long probe that goes inside your vagina to take pictures and is supposed to show images more clearly. The wand clearly showed that there was no baby in my uterus. There was no heartbeat and no beginning of little baby arms or legs. There was a black blob which she told me mean that I'd had a missed miscarriage. I'd miscarried my baby and my body didn't tell me. As soon as I saw the black blob I knew. Tears streamed down my face and I tried to focus on what the doctor was saying but after a few seconds I was crying uncontrollably. She handed me a box of tissues and hugged me as I struggled to regain my composure.

After I was finally able to get dressed she led me out of the sonogram room to her office to discuss options. I'm not sure she even noticed that she sat me next to a bulletin board of smiling babies that she'd delivered. I felt like they were laughing at me. She told me I could take medicine to induce a mscarriage, wait for it to happen naturally, or have a D&C- a surgical procedure to remove it. I opted for a D&C the next day. Dealing with it on my own with medicine didn't seem like a good option and I certainly wasn't going to wait for it to happen naturally.

Husband was with his unit at the range and didn't get back for three hours. By the time he got home I'd cried myself to sleep. I'd realized that it was dead inside me for at least two weeks without me knowing. That morbid thought was the cruelest possible end to the situation. How could my body not have alerted me? How could my body not have known?

I loved my baby. I prayed for my baby. I said good morning and good night to my baby each and every day. It hurts that I lost it. I don't think I've ever been so heartbroken.