The lazy ovaries, the womb of doom, and I are doing well. Just pumping in the progesterone, so that we can get the show on the road. Nope- still not optimistic. Optimism, she died a long time ago with her side kick, Hope.
Many things have come around full circle this week to dissolve me into a puddle of whiny tears. Out damn depression, out I say. It's moments like this week that make me regret the decision to discontinue my anti-depressants. But, I'm sure we'll meet again some day, me and those pills. For now, I think it's more a matter of allowing myself to feel something, instead of keeping it in and trying to be "strong". It is quite the silly thing to do- and I believe the core of my problems. So prepare to be unloaded upon-
The top of my self pity list- is the recent passing of my loss anniversary for number two, my Angel. More than just the loss, is the flash backs of me screaming on the bathroom floor a disheveled mess crying out for it. to. just. stop. for. the. love. of. god. Of seeing that beautiful gestational sac on the ultrasound screen, and then seeing it as it passed during the process. The fact that all this happened- and not hardly a soul cared, or knew. Pain. Contraction. Pain. Depression. Pain. Screaming, and not knowing why. I remember it in snip-its sometimes, even though I don't want to. Driving the car. At work. At home. When I'm in the bath and I look at the floor, the sink I had clung to. It's hard to deal with, those flash backs. I suppose that's why they're flash backs and I don't put the pieces all together at once- because I can't handle them all together at once, not even a year later. Maybe I have PTSD. Rest assured, I am okay. My body and mind are coping well, the flash backs are few and far between. It's just the intensity of them that makes them just so much more awful. I know with time this shall pass- it's been a year already, and I must say it definitely has gotten quite better... until the anniversary. But, it will get better again.
I've also been dealing with the fact that the anniversary of my first miscarriage is approaching too. I really can't believe how naive I was back then- I feel stupid. I had lost innocence with that one, but not hope. Yeah, hope had turned into something else but I hadn't abandoned her completely. I still hoped for the second pregnancy, but of course we know how that ended. With her, I gave up hope in order to save myself.
But I digress- my first miscarriage was hard. Even harder because my grandmother's cancer returned and she died. My last grandparent dead. My first pregnancy over. It was a hard few months-
I recently lost an aunt to cancer too- I'm sure that's not helping anything. My mother has been distant, and this has me worried because of her mental illness. I keep reaching out, but she keeps finding excuses to avoid getting together. I am going to have to impose myself on her soon, and then she'll throw a tantrum and whine to everyone how no one trusts her to take care of herself, how we treat her like she's helpless, and she'll start ranting about everything and everyone and saying we don't care about her, and how she's all alone and blah blah blah. I love my mother, but it's all about her. Always. It comes with her illness. I now accept that, and I cope with it much better now than I ever did. It was hard for the longest time- but now, it's nothing new and I take it all in like a grain of sand. And yes, impose I must. She just lost her sister, and if I leave her alone the fallout will be all that much worse. Better to force her to realize people care about her, than to give her ammo for her tantrum pity party by not being aggressive.
If I ovulate (big IF) this cycle, it will coincide with around when I ovulated with the first miscarriage. I suppose I will worry about this when we get to it, but I am really hoping that if I ovulate I don't end up with another miscarriage. I don't want two miscarriages with almost the exact same loss dates and estimated due dates. That would be awful. I'm not going to worry about it- the likelihood of me ovulating is slim anyway. Pregnancy even slimmer. Just. Not. Thinking. About. It.
I've been worrying about my recent surgery, researching, wondering what this new diagnosis means to me. Hoping I don't have to think about it much more.
I started working the graveyard shift, which is a lot easier and less intense. It gives me time to relax and just do whatever I want... and get paid for it. However, the hours are not what one considers normal. I miss sleeping with my husband, literally. I do catch some zzz's with him, but they aren't like real sleep. When I wake him up he's grouchy because he hasn't slept well himself. It's grating my nerves, getting home from work to come home to a grouchy husband. I know it's just because he's tired, but I can't help but get upset.
Sister-in-law is progressing blissfully in her pregnancy- still so naive. Everyone is happy and excited about the expectation of this second biological grandchild. She updates her FB every week to let everyone know how far along she is. I am happy for her, really- I wouldn't wish the shit I've been through on anyone.
But what I wouldn't give to have what she has right now.