it happened again

As much as I want to pretend like this didn’t happen to me, I can’t ignore it.  And I know that’s not healthy either.  I spent the weekend just kind of hiding out at my house, but I can already feel myself starting the process of moving forward.  Certainly it is so different when I’d only known I was pregnant for a week, and I’m a little more aware of how to grieve now. 

The Good:
My husband, who has held me and let me cry, assured me that everything is going to be ok, acknowledged my grief and understands all of the complicated layers of my sadness.  And I love him because he has this way of letting me be sad, but then completely obsessing over some other issue (today it was the upcoming launch of the Iphone 5) and drawing me into some task or research that gets my mind off of reality. 

I baked a pot pie today.  I distinctly remember the first day after Kayla died that I felt like baking/cooking.  It felt so normal and I think was my first step towards resolving my grief.  It was probably about 5 days after.  The fact that I felt like baking today is a relief and a sign that it will not take me as long to “bounce back.”  The numbness already wore off. 

I physically feel fine.  Since it was so early  I’ve just had a regular period with no nasty side effects. 

The Bad:
Loss of Hope.  I wasn’t really attached to this pregnancy, but  I was letting myself feel hopeful.  My hope took a huge hit this weekend, and now doubt has crept in again.  Doubt that I will ever be a “real” mother, that my body is capable, that I will feel complete again. 

I really wish I wouldn’t have taken any pregnancy tests last week.  Because as soon as I saw the positive test, my heart just opened up to let in the possibility of a baby, I couldn’t help it.  And so I am feeling that loss now.  If I hadn’t tested, I would never have even known I was pregnant. 

I miss Kayla.  This whole emotional week, from seeing the positive pregnancy test, to worrying about losing the pregnancy, to actually losing the pregnancy, has just made me realize how much I want HER here with me. 

Tomorrow is the first day back for a new school year.  I was doing so “good” in my grief, feeling like I was on the right track and like I can handle my life.  I was even kind of looking forward to seeing everyone and starting fresh.  Now this happened and I’m vulnerable again.  Only this time no one knows and everyone will have expected me to move on.  I think it is going to be exhausting.

The Ugly/Awkward:
My body.  I feel so fat and puffy and like I have no control over my body. 

Doctor’s.  I’m supposed to go back tomorrow for my second blood draw, but I don’t really see the point, I KNOW I’m not pregnant anymore, I don’t really need them to confirm it.  I will probably still go just in case I need to be checked or something.  I hate going to the doctor’s since Kayla died.

The other people I told.  I only told my parents, my sister, my best friend, and the online community (!)  They are supportive.  But it still feels awkward.  Besides the fact that they now know intimate details like I am bleeding or when we had sex (which is awkward because I am a very private person in real life), I hate dragging my parents through this, getting their hopes up again.  I thought I needed to tell them “in case I needed their support.”  never really thinking I would have another loss.  You’d think I would have learned my lesson with Kayla--this kind of stuff DOES happen to me.  If  I ever get pregnant again, I am not going to tell them, it’s too stressful!

Is this REALLY my life?  When did I become this person?  What do I even want out of my life now?  Should we keep trying?  Take a break?  My identity is becoming unrecognizable to me, and I hate that.