I haven’t written on this blog in a while.  I never do much anyways.  I was doing pretty good in August, but then I was thinking about it way too much.  When I start thinking about it all the time -it’s time to shut off the computer and take care of my priorities.  Priorities? My children -period.  Keeping up on a blog is a lot of work, especially if you want to make it interesting with constant updates. I still refuse to participate in the linky games.  I admit, I have in the past, but since no one reads my blog from the linky games, I don’t actively take part.

Enough of my soap-box whining.  Now to the real reason I’m sad.

9 Weeks ago today, I was ecstatic to find out I was pregnant again.  I know, I just had a baby.  I really want one or even two more.

I had an only-child once and you can point him out a mile away.  Children need other children for obvious reasons.  Unfortunately Ethan didn’t have that.  I feel for him, I do.   At the time it was impossible to have two.    We had no money, and I was on WIC (women, infants, and children) because I couldn’t afford his formula.  Yeah shoot me, I did breast feed for two months, and then my supply suddenly dropped and I had to put him on formula.  I always said if we lived in a third world country, he would of starved. I remember my cousin and I waited for this truck to come and it gave us free canned food.  How embarrassing.  No, I wasn’t on welfare, we both had jobs -underpaid waiter jobs with no medical insurance.  It really wasn’t the lack of money, it was the fact that Ethan’s father and I didn’t get along -AT ALL.  Life was really hard then.  Almost impossible at times.  I can’t even begin to elaborate on the abuse between us.  I always had hope that life would turn for the better.   You don’t need a lot of money to raise a child.  I know, I have experience.  When I finally was alone, just Ethan and me, it was so much easier.  SO EASY.  I had put my self through nursing school and obtained my RN.  I made just enough for us to get by.  Life was still so much easier.  What you do need is a partner, a healthy relationship, a best friend.  If you have that, it’s easy.  Fast forward to the year 2011 AND that’s exactly what I have.  Honestly, I don’t feel lucky that my fiance is a doctor, I feel lucky that I have a best friend that I’m in love with and we work together as a great team, have trust and great communication -that to me is something I thank god for everyday.  This is why I want CHILDREN, CHILDREN, and more CHILDREN.  I do keep in mind, world population and the fact that I’m 35.

I’m a registed nurse and even have 2 years experience in Labor and Delivery.  I never knew miscarriages happend this way.  I now work in the Emergency room, and still didn’t realize miscarriages happen this way.  I know they are diffenrent for every person, but I thought you get a heavy period and that’s the end of it.  (Keep in mind -mine happened at 8 weeks.  I do realize they are different depending on which week you miscarry.)

I seem to have difficult first trimesters.  With Anne I had first trimester bleeding.  It started again.  I was nervous, but not as nervous as I was with Anne; maybe I knew inevitably it was coming to and end and there was nothing to stress about.  After about a week of this, I told Steve that I wasn’t very optimistic.

I was eight weeks, and called that morning for an appointment.  I knew things weren’t right.  They got me in right away.  They were going over the whole detailed process of your pregnancy experience.  I sort-of interrupted and told them, I was really here for the bleeding.  I told them I wanted an ultrasound.  Luckily, they got me in right away.

I was waiting for the ultrasound, this would give me answers.  But I had a feeling they weren’t going to find anything.  I just wanted this over with.  I wanted to know if I was going to have to be stressed out or relieved.  Not for the reasons you think.  Relieved becasue it was all over with, no vialble pregancy or stressed out because now I was going to have to worry if this baby would make it or not.  I got the ultrasound.  I’m not stupid -there was nothing in there.  No baby.  No heart beat.  That’s when the bleeding started.  I had to go back to see the doctor.  They wanted labs drawn, I said, why bother, but I let them anyways.  At this point I was more mad that I was going to have to try and get prenant angain.  I thought I had 8 weeks over with.  Now I have to start all over.  I know.  Selfish.  I mean it’s problems with chromosomes right?  Maybe.

I got home that night and was bleeding to death.  I know, I’m exagerating.  I told my self to be objective.  I told myself, you know the bleeding rule -soaking 2 pads an hour for 2 hours strait.

I was in bed with the baby trying to put her to sleep.  I had taken 600 motrin about an hour prior.  I was cramping and the motrin wasn’t even touching the pain.  I felt like I was in labor.  Can’t be.  Must be in my head.  For about an hour, I felt like I was having contractions.  I just held on to Anne so she would fall asleep.  I was hoping this would pass.  Suddenly it did.  The pregnancy.  Luckily I didn’t see anything that resembled an embryo.  The cramping stopped and so did the bleeding.  That was it.  It was over.

What the fuck was I thinking telling everyone so soon about this pregnancy.  Now I’m going to have to explain -explain that I’m fine and it was meant to be.  When I told Ethan I was pregnant, he said sarcasticly, “Way to go MOM!”  and went to school and told his friends that I need to find a new hobby.  What do I say to him now?

I’d rather have it miscarry than have a child with fucked up chromosomes have to live in this cruel world.  I’m so selfish.

Maybe that’s just my own grief process.  Everybody’s different right?  Kind of like the Kubler-Ross model of loss.  I didn’t have time to think about it for a week, because we had to go out of town for a medical confernce and then I had to work three, 12-hour shifts, in a row.  I was sort-of in denial.  Once I had my days off, and I was alone with the baby-that’s when it hit me.  Steve wasn’t coming home right away that night or the next night bcause a good friend of his was leaving the hospital for a new job and then next night he was lifting weights.  I was so mad at him.  I never get mad at him.  I had all day by myself to think about it and the miscarrage was bothering me.  About three days of being alone and angry -I cried and I cried.  Why did this happen?  I promise next time I won’t drink coffee, or have my nightly social with Steve while I’m trying to get pregnant.  I won’t lift anything heavy, take my folic acid and drink plenty of water.

I’ll be okay.

Steve didn’t lift weights the rest of the week.  I think he knew I needed him.  God, I love him.