This has been...

the worst summer (emotionally/mentally and in general) I've ever had.

After our first miscarriage, I never felt like I actually healed from it.  I still cried a lot about it and just felt like I never finished mourning it.

Then I got pregnant again.

This time my numbers went up almost like they were supposed to and I was almost hopeful that things would turn out ok.  When the brown spotting started I really began to worry.  So much that I broke out in a rash all over my neck and across my brow.  Everyone told me that was normal, and because my numbers were still going up, that I shouldn't worry too much.

At about 6 weeks, I had just one spot of dark red blood, so they had me come in for an ultrasound.  They said it was still too early to see much.  I saw the gestational sac, but they couldn't tell if there was anything in it, so they just sent me home with orders for more blood work and to call back if there was any more red blood.

The brown spotting continued for another week and then there was more red.  Went in for another ultrasound and the sac had gotten larger and was on track...but there was nothing in it.  They began to wonder if maybe the pregnancy was in my tubes, but after a more in depth ultrasound, they couldn't find anything.

When I talked to the doctor, they said it was a missed miscarriage, something I've read about but never really understood, until now.

If you don't know, a missed miscarriage is when everything progresses almost as normal, but there is no viable pregnancy.  If you don't miscarry on your own, you have to make yourself.  They gave me a couple options, surgery - a D&C - where they surgically remove part of the uterine lining so that you miscarry or meds.

Because I've heard that the surgery can cause scarring and other complications that could prohibit future pregnancies, we chose the medicine route.  Of course there are downsides to the med route as well. But after discussing it together and with the doctor, that's just what we chose.

It was really difficult going into this appointment, knowing we'd be coming out with the means to end this pregnancy.  Even harder was watching the happy couple leave from their appointment with a picture of their ultrasound and healthy baby.  Even knowing that they have struggled (they would't be at this doctor is they hadn't) didn't take away the pain and jealousy I felt when I saw them leave.

When we had the consultation with the doctor, he prescribed the drug cocktail (one to make the miscarriage happen, one to make the nausea go away, and enough Vicodin for a week).  Evidently they expect this to be painful...and it was.  I don't know if I'll ever get the opportunity to feel what real child birth felt like, but I image that the pain from this wasn't too far off.  If the Vicodin was supposed to make me feel better, it did not, same with the nausea medication, I still barfed a couple times.

And now I sit here, with an empty hole inside of me.  Almost healed (as in the bleeding is finally coming to a stop), but there is this deep dark hole, that I don't know if it will ever go away or be able to be filled.  I came about with the first miscarriage and this second one has just made it bigger.  I've been trying to fill it, trying to make myself forget (and Ed has been amazing with helping me keep my mind off of it), but no matter what, when things start to calm down, and I don't have much to do or I'm alone, the ache comes back, the whole deepens and I just cry.

I try to limit crying to bath time.  But sometimes it just creeps up on me, just the slightest reminder of what I'm going through.  For example, today I had to get my blood drawn to make sure my numbers are going down like they're supposed to, and walking back to the car it just hit me, and I started crying.

I don't know how to make it stop.  It makes me tired, angry, bitter, jealous of those for whom all of this is so easy, and very intolerant of others who take their children for granted.  Every time I see a super pregnant woman or a newborn the hole gets a little darker.

The hardest part of alll of it, is not knowing if we'll ever get our happy ending.  Not knowing if I will ever be able to successfully carry a healthy baby to term.  The not knowing is just as bad, if not worse than the miscarriages themselves.