Life is Brutal

It feels like I don't post anything on this tiny speck of the internet anymore, unless, it's heartbreaking.  Oh, well.  If you know me well, then, you know that writing is way more therapeutic for me than actual counseling...and, a helluva lot less expensive.  And, maybe, just maybe, someone in similar shoes will read it and not feel so alone.
On October 27th, in the biggest surprise twist of our lives, I peed on a stick and got a "Pregnant".  You see, if you know me, then you know that my children are all IVF.  And, it was a long journey to get there.  It's not uncommon, I know that.  But, when you are in the depths of hell and depression, it's a tough row to hoe.  Infertility sucks...so, very bad.  I can now say that they were all well worth the wait...and, I mean that with my whole heart.  However, when we were living it, it didn't seem like it would ever end, and, certainly not the way I was hoping.  I met some amazing women on that journey, and, Rob and I managed to come out stronger than when we started.  Never did we expect to have a surprise pregnancy.  We were shocked (one of us a little more than the other - ha), thrilled, terrified, over the moon.  The emotions ran the gamut.  I was a bit less shocked than anyone, because it was my body and I had been in that place before...I'd had a few days to panic and wonder and worry (but, the sleep - oh, it was sooo good).  I knew for sure on Thursday, October 26th - that if anything in the world was wrong with me, that I was either dying of exhaustion or pregnant.  I prayed for as long as I could that night before drifting into dreamland, that I was the latter (I only lasted a few minutes, but, the prayers were fervent).
I'm 100% positive that I called Rob first (I didn't with Molly - OOPS!!!), and 99.9% sure that he called me back before I called my friend, Katherine.  The doctor's office was 2nd, Momma was third - this is all assuming I called Katherine after them - ha!  I had told her on Sunday that my boobs were sore - she was the only person I uttered a word to about it.  I wasn't brave enough to say anything to anyone else.
Anyway, to say that anyone we told was shocked is an understatement.  For real, if you knew our story, you'd have been shocked, as well.
So, this was a Friday.  I went to the DR on Monday and everything measured and looked good.  Test results showed low progesterone and maybe a slower heartbeat than normal.  We started progesterone and waited with baited breath a week before another visit with the doc.  At that point, everything was normal.  I felt OK - tired, terrible sinuses, but, not sick like I had with the others, just super tired.  Granted, it's been 6 years since I did this before - I'm a few years older now.  Everything seemed fine, measured fine, looked fine.   At my 12 week appointment, my doctor, who we've been with for 18 years, told me "I never tell anyone they won't miscarry - but, this baby...THIS baby - is awesome.  I can't wait to meet her in June.  Take a breath, Momma.  Yall are good."
Over New Year's weekend, I couldn't sleep one night.  I laid awake and just prayed.  Prayed that she would be healthy, whole, "normal".  Genetic testing told us that this baby was a girl and that everything was "normal" - whatever that is these days.  But, on December 30th, I couldn't sleep and all I could do was worry.  We don't know for sure when it happened, but, if I were to bet, I'd bet on December 30th.  I started spotting on the evening of January 7th.
On January 8th at 8:00 AM, we met with a doctor here in Athens...as we were planning to make the move from Atlanta Piedmont to Athens Piedmont.  It's an awful way to meet someone, to have them put an ultrasound on your pregnant belly and to look at the screen and know she was gone.  As a mother, it's been the worst experience I've faced.  The doctor didn't want to say it, so, I did.  "There is no heartbeat.  She is gone."
I'd lie and say that the past two weeks have been somewhat normal.  But, honestly, we're just surviving.  The kids - LUCKILY - have rebounded quickly.  The girls had more questions that Marlin.  He is his fathers child, though.  Internalizes and doesn't talk.  Which, sometimes, I feel like is a blessing.  The girls both had questions and lots of anxiety about my health.  If she wasn't healthy, then, did that mean I wasn't healthy.  If she couldn't/wouldn't/didn't survive, would I be able to be healthy?  Those were hard conversations.  Brutal.  And, I'm so sad that they had to face those thoughts in their little hearts, but, thankful they were brave enough to have the conversation with me about their fears.
I've been trying to re-enter society this past week.  It's nice to go to work or errands and feel normal.  But, everything I do, I think of her.  Every time we get in the car, I think about how we were encouraging the kids to sit in the third row to have room for a car seat.  The grocery store, target, etc. with all of the baby gear.  The sweet babe losing it today at Sam's.  The church service telling me that God loves me and doesn't want to harm me.  The same service telling me about the marriage bed.  Isn't that what got me into this??  I want to scream and ask where my loving God is when he ripped my child from my womb.  The baby who never breathed a breath of fresh air.  The one who I could never hold.  The baby sister my kids would never see.
My girlfriend keeps telling me how strong I am.  What she doesn't and can't see is my rage.  I'm so mad.  I feel like the mom in Steel Magnolias where she screams "I'm so mad, I just want to hit something."  I want to throw glass to hear it shatter.  I want to shoot a target to hear the blast.  I want to hit something just to feel the blow.
We've had such an outpouring of love and support.  I'm so thankful to have people in my life who truly care about us.  We come home to gifts on the porch, flowers delivered, cards in the mail, food on the table.  I'm so very thankful for the help, support, prayers.  I know one day I'll look back at this, and, though the pain will always be there, I'll be able to have a conversation with friends without sobbing, speak to neighbors without the awkward "How are you?" and my stark, honest and pissed off response "I'm breathing."  The sun is still rising everyday.  I'm forcing myself to, as well.
I can say that I'm thankful that if I had to lose her, I lost her before I met her or heard her cry.  Before my babies were able to hold her and claim her as their own, before Robbie could fall in love and promise her the world.  It is better now than a lifetime - long or short - of pain or no quality of life.  Knowing that in my head does not help my heart at the moment.  One day it might...I sure hope it will.
Someone said on facebook that I was brave for sharing our journey.  Others may think I've been foolish to share at all.   Others may think I need/want attention.  Still others, know that it's just who I am.  When all signs point to a miracle blessing, why not shout it from the rooftops?
Know this, baby girl.  You were loved.  You are loved.  You will forever be missed.  And, one day, maybe Momma can think of you and not feel like her heart is being ripped out of her body.