Where I Am and How I Deal

These days I'm feeling very frustrated with my body and overwhelmed by this new diagnosis. We're finally at a place where we can move forward, so you can add excited and terrified to that list, too. Sometimes it feels like we can't win. When we're not trying, there's no fear of loss. We can't get hurt, but there's no chance of having a baby, either. I'm trying to be hopeful, but it's hard. I've had four miscarriages in a row. At this point, my chance of miscarrying is greater than my chance of success. That's scary, but we're still trying and trusting and believing, even though it's hard. My desire is greater than my fear and I'll endure whatever I have to endure. The end is near for us, though, because there isn't that much more we can try. At least, not that we're comfortable with. How I'm feeling changes pretty much minute by minute. It's all a lot to deal with, and I'm doing my best.

There have been four pregnancy announcements just in the past week. Those are always hard. Not because I'm not happy for them, it just makes me even more sad for me. I don't hate pregnant women and I'm not angry with them. Most of the time I'm able to separate myself. Sometimes I have to remind myself that there aren't a finite number of babies to be handed out. I have to remind myself that someone else getting pregnant doesn't affect my chances of getting pregnant. That's not to say that I don't have my moments or even days. I especially have a hard time with women who are very "in your face" about their pregnancies. It absolutely stings that what's so easy for so many and what so many take for granted is so hard for me.

I have several close friends with babies who were born around one of my babies' due dates. I also have two friends with babies due around the same time as Quinn. Sometimes that's hard. I don't always look at K and think of Kendall, and I don't always look at P and E and think of Avery. Every once in a while, though, it just hits me. Usually when I least expect and it's usually a fleeting thought. "This is how old Kendall would be now" or "This is what Avery would be learning to do." I don't dwell on it. I've been there and it can be dangerous. I miss and love my babies, but I know I can't have them back. I've learned to accept that, but the sadness does creep in occassionally. There was a time that I knew exactly how pregnant I would be and exactly how old each of my babies would be. If you asked me right now, I would have to stop and count. Sometimes that makes me feel guilty and less connected to them. Like I'm forgetting. But I know that this kind of progress is healthy, even when it hurts.

I'm far from perfect. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not in the greatest place right now, but I could be worse. It would have been very easy for me to cut myself off from the world. There have been times when I really wanted to close all the blinds, lock all the doors, and hide from life. I haven't done that, though. I go out with my friends, I laugh (a lot,) I go to church and worship even when I don't really feel like it, I work in a children's clothing store and see babies and bellies all the time. 90% of the time I put on a brave face and get on with life. I lost four babies in less than two years, three in nine months. Somehow, by the grace of God and with the support of a few amazing friends, I managed to avoid falling into the deep depression that I was most definitely headed towards. Sometimes, I think it's a miracle that I haven't ended up institutionalized. Occassionally bitterness and anger creep in, but they never stay for long. I'm usually a very rational person. I know when I'm being irrational and I always turn it around. After almost three years and four miscarriages, I think I handle it all pretty well.