Limbo

"It" hasn't happened yet. The miscarriage, I mean. The ironic thing is that I feel better now physically than I did weeks 5 & 6 of my pregnancy. But, I still feel pregnant: boobs still inflated and sore (although not quite as much), still very bloated, appetite is back, and still very tired. The fatigue could be sadness-fueled though. I don't feel very motivated to do much of anything. I hate that my body hasn't gotten on board with this miscarriage, when I've had to begin to come to terms with it mentally. The lingering pregnancy symptoms are like an evil constant reminder of the fact that I was pregnant, I was going to be a mom, and now, or in a few days or weeks, the life that was going to be, is going to leave my body forever.

We went to the pumpkin patch yesterday with my mom, who came down to spend the weekend with us. I LOVE fall. I love pumpkins, and baked goods, and the decorations and cooler weather. I have always loved going to the pumpkin patch, ever since I was a little girl. So I thought going would certainly cheer me up. And it did, but I had to get through the teeming mass of children, families and pregnant women first. I forgot about them. I forgot that the holidays, which begin in October and kick-off at the pumpkin patch, are all about family time, and candid family photos. We were wandering around the buckets and tables of pre-picked pumpkins and gourds when I came across a little family of three: just born baby with her two beaming, fanning over the beautiful- new-life-we-created-together parents. I stared at them. I couldn't look away, even though I know it's socially inappropriate to stare at people you don't know. Jason put his arm around me and turned me gently away. My mom touched my shoulder and said, "Are you ok, honey?" and my eyes welled up and I just had to get out of there. So we slumped away from the happy scene and went to the "you pick" section of the patch, which is spread out over a few acres and decidedly less crowded. My mood picked up as we aimlessly strolled along the rows looking for the perfect pumpkin, but my heart wasn't in it. Not really.

I hate this. All of it. I hate knowing that our baby is still inside of me but no longer healthy, that today would be the first day of week 7 and yet, it's not. Our baby stopped growing 2 weeks ago. The fact that it hasn't left me yet makes me horribly sad in a way I can't explain, like it doesn't want to leave, like it feels at home in a womb that can no longer properly care for it. I don't want it to ever leave me. I want it to stay inside and continue to grow and be born in May, just like we had begun to plan for. But at the same time, if it's not going to grow any more, if it's not meant to be born to us and live on this Earth, I need for it to pass, so Jason and I can begin to heal and move forward, because right now, we're in limbo. We don't know when it's going to happen, and sometimes, since it hasn't yet, we wonder IF it's going to happen at all. Maybe the doctor is wrong, maybe the blood work wasn't all that bad, maybe this will be our miracle baby after all.

What are we supposed to think? Supposed to feel? Supposed to do? We love a baby that isn't meant to be, a baby we'll never meet. Are we parents? We have a child who would answer if we called out it's name in Heaven, but our arms remain empty here on Earth. How do we move forward, and find ourselves again, be happy again and have hope that we'll get our family? How do people do this over, and over, and over again? Will I always feel like a piece of me is missing? I feel so lost.