Blogging for sanity.

I do not even understand what happened to the month of April and March was a nightmare that I fear will forever haunt me late at night. I lay down each night after I put my girls to bed and my hand goes to that place, that place on my belly where I last felt him. I will never know if I should have done something different that night, gone to the ER, picked a different option other than "waiting until tomorrow". Would things have turned out different? Probably not, this was God's choice, not mine. He decided to keep this baby, I did not decide to lose him. I know that, it makes perfect sense while I am writing, but it does not comfort me when I am sad or remove the 100 lb weight that sits on my chest when I am alone and have a moment to remember.

The pregnancy was terrible, I was sick the entire time. Two hemorrhages, morning sickness, not a pound gained in 20 weeks. We were not even sure he had survived the bleeding until they found a HB at 13 weeks. Relief! Man I remember that day like it was yesterday. So I don't really understand why my water broke at 18 weeks, all I know is that it did and I am going to be pissed about that for the rest of my life.

I remember every detail, the feeling, the bleeding, the birth, the placenta abruption, knowing that my husband was trying to save my life and I was just sitting there in disbelief that this was it. The baby had been born, he was dead, wrapped in a towel in the back seat. Such a strange thought for someone who loves everything about having babies and wants as many as she can get before she is too old and her eggs dry up.

My nurse shared my name, Melanie. She was very sweet and cried when she came to tell me it was a boy. All I could do was think of Shawn. How my every hearts desire is to give him a son and this was it, this was our boy and he was dead. They asked me if I wanted to see him, "no thank you" was my reply. WHAT!?? No thank you!!?? Are you kidding me?? Obviously I was in shock because that was not what I meant. Thank God Shawn was there and in his right mind and asked me again. Of course I want to see him! I want to hold him and kiss him and nurse him and take him home and let him sleep on my chest!! I got to see him, and touch him, the rest I never got to do. I ache for all of it everyday.

None of it really makes sense to me, all I know is that I was pregnant with my sweet Bennett one minute and the next I was on a bloody episode of ER that resulted in not one but two d&c's ten days apart. How comical, two d&c's, seriously!? The first one was a blur that second one just pissed me off. Dr. Chuck, the big fat man with huge hands that did the first one assured me that he did a lot of "scraping and sucking" and it should all be gone. What a joke, wonder how he would have felt if I had scraped and sucked all of his sperm out when he was trying to have babies!? The doc that performed the second one was much more gentle, but it was too late anyway, I was done making babies for a while and I knew that. I hate Dr. Chuck.



So now I am 13 weeks from my due date. My sister had her third two weeks ago, I was blessed to get to attend. My best friend is due August 25, I was due the 13th. No I am not kidding. I wonder....when God is giving you all that you can handle, is he taking into account when you have had all of the fun you can stand!?

I live in a city where we know no one, 250 miles from my family and friends, from my sister and my mom, I have two baby girls and an amazing husband that works all of the time because we have started a business. The night after my second d&c I was up with a sick little one and making formula at 3 AM. There is no break here, certainly no time for a break-DOWN. But I'll be damned if I don't deserve one.

I want my baby boy, I want to be pregnant, I want to have three seats in my car come August 13th, I want to go and get him from where we buried him and bring him home and nurse him and snuggle him and love him and I know that none of it is going to happen and that makes me want to scream, and cry and break things. Instead I have decided to write. Am I going crazy? Maybe. Do I care? Nope. When you lose a child, you lose your mind. When you have others to raise, you better go find it. I decided to start looking here.