Ugh, this week has been so hard. So hard. I'm not entirely sure why the tears are coming so much easier this time. It's like my pain threshold has been blown away and I'm feeling all the things I've hidden away over the past nearly 4 months. And there is so much anger. I used to be this lighthearted person who didn't really have a care in the world. I used to laugh when I talked and sing in the car and dance around the house. I'm not sure I'll ever get back there. Can I be too broken? I just feel like I've reached this point of no return. Where I can hardly muster the strength to answer the phone, much less leave the house for something that isn't required. And the thing is, I did this to myself. My doctor said he didn't think my body was capable of carrying another child. Thought I was setting myself up. Turns out, he was right. I had so much peace about our decision, I was so confident that we were having those boy-girl twins. But, what does one do? Should I leave my children in limbo world?? Frozen, stuck forever in this weird place? I certainly can't do that. And, there are 6 more. But, how much heartache can one person take before it crushes you completely? I have a feeling I'll be testing the answer to that question.
In the past week, we've ordered a few things for Noah. He had 1 item - a canvas basket for his nursery that we would fill with his books. Reading to my babies is one of my favorite things. I picked it out while on my date with Dean; he approved too. So, in the coming days, he will also have a frame for his ultrasound pictures and an ornament for our tree. But, that is as much of a physical impact he will have. I think that's one of the things that has made this so difficult - there was no moment of joy. With Reagan and Lucas, I was able to birth them. I had memories of them kicking and smiling and waving and sucking their thumbs. I was able to hold them and kiss them and say goodbye. With Noah, nothing. One day he was there, heartbeat fluttering. The next, he was gone. "There is no sign of intrauterine pregnancy" is the way the news was delivered to me. (Well, actually, I saw the empty ultrasound by myself because they wouldn't let Andrew come along and didn't think to turn it away from my sight. But "officially", those are the doctors words). We found a beautiful sign on Etsy where you can put multiple names and dates of birth of babies who were gone too soon. As Andrew and I talked about ordering it, we came to the same realization. We better wait. Because, chances are, we'll be here again. Three in 5 pregnancies have now ended in death. How can it be that I've only had 2 live deliveries? Only 1 born in the right trimester?? While it seems the rest of the world goes on with their continuous stream of healthy, full term babies? I have never felt more alone, more isolated. But the thing is, I don't even know how to be a person anymore, how to interact with other adults. I'm just barely hanging on with my kids, able to pretend for brief moments each day.
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