Where I am: musings on the fragility of hope

It's strange. I was pregnant for such a short while, but now that our baby has left my womb, an unsettling, phantom emptiness has set in. I find myself absentmindedly rubbing my still very bloated belly. Although I saw the placenta, and I know that our baby is no longer inside of me, I still cannot quite believe that it's over. I am no longer pregnant. And it hurts.

Sad doesn't even begin to adequately describe it. I don't know what to say, really. Right now, I'm still bleeding, still passing a piece of tissue here and there or the occasional blood clot, and the image of the deflated placenta still haunts me, especially when I lie down at night to go to sleep. Right now, I'm afraid to try again. Afraid to fail again, afraid to feel the pain I have felt both emotionally and physically. I'm afraid to go down that path again: the treatments, the money, the time, the hope, the expectations, the potential let down's. It's such a process, and I'm just not ready right now. Even if we could try again next month, I wouldn't. 

I suppose it's a good thing we can't try again until January. It gives my body time to heal, but it also gives us a chance to mentally prepare for what lies ahead. There is the very real possibility that I will miscarry again. And what if it's later in the pregnancy? Miscarrying a 5 week placenta and embryo at 8 weeks pregnant was painful enough - what if I'm farther along next time? And how long will it take to actually get pregnant again? Will we be lucky and get another positive with our very next IUI? Or will it take a few months? Maybe even years? Will we have to do IVF? The fear of the unknown is quite debilitating. I need to get past the fear, but right now, it's all too fresh. I'm afraid, plain and simple.  

On the flip side, there is, of course, the possibility that the next time will be IT. And that is the sole driving force for getting my body and mind back on track. We so desperately want a family and this pregnancy has only intensified that desire. We were so close, closer than we have ever been before, and it's crushing that it ended in miscarriage, but what if the next time it doesn't? We have to hold fast to that hope - we have to in order to get our family. I'm a fighter - always have been, always will be and Jason is a hopeless optimist, able to find the positive in every situation, so together we'll get through this. I have no doubt. I'll get back on track - it'll take some time, and I need to grieve, but come January, I think I'll be ready. We have another little soul in heaven cheering us on and we can't, we won't, let it down. 

I truly can't thank you all enough for your love and support, but please know that your kind words and encouragement have indeed helped us in our time of need. Good, bad, or indifferent, this is all part of a bigger journey, and we have to accept what is in order to get to what will be. Everything happens for a reason - we just have to believe.