One year ago I was about 5 weeks pregnant.
I was in my bedroom getting things ready for one of our nephew's first birthday parties.
I bent over,
and I felt intense sharp cramps.
I ran to the bathroom.
Checked the TP.
And found blood.
Lots of blood.
I spent most of that evening in the ER...
(something I don't plan on ever doing again.)
Two days later it would be confirmed.
I'd just had my first miscarriage.
It's already been a year since then.
And what do I have to show for it?
More heartache, more loss, more grief?
I feel like screaming, "Stop! I can't keep doing this!"
But I can, and I am...
but I won't be for much longer.
I know that now.
It is firming up in my heart.
One more cycle; maybe.
An injectable cycle; perhaps one.
Some natural cycles... maybe
(Although, since I don't ovulate on my own, I don't think those will count for much.)
But, I know that this journey is about to end.
One way or another, in the next year we will be closing this chapter of our trying to concieve journey. And another chapter will be opening. I don't know what yet, whether one of these cycles will work, or if we'll be pursuing adoption full throttle... but this chapter, the here and now, will be closing.
I miss my lost ones.
I miss the future we should have had.
I miss the hope that used to illuminate the path.
And I am ready to let go of this.
I am ready to let go of failing
month after month after month.
Agony, pain, grief;
I can feel something changing in my heart.
I can feel the dreams I used to have breaking off, and dying.
I can feel something else taking root in their place.