The next few weeks are going to get ugly. Really ugly. Uglier.
I just succeeded in torturing myself with baby blogs. Oh, but not just any baby blogs -- blogs from infertiles who succeeded in getting pregnant. The same week that I did. Some how seeking the 36 weeker recently born was hard, but didn't bring me to tears like the second. The one who had twins, but one twin died at 22 or 23 weeks. And the other twin made it to almost 26 weeks. And is now a chubby NICU baby who smiles when she hears her mother's voice.
It was a video. I didn't have to click on it. No. But I did. Oh, I did, and my heart did a little flip flop when the smile came. Yes it did. And then the thoughts. That's what *my baby* might be doing if he had survived. If we had tried. Even though he was doomed. Even though I know we did the right thing, it still rips my heart out. And it still makes me wonder what if. What might be. In all likelihood I would have a baby or two right now, had things not gone to hell. Due date in 2 weeks. God.Dammit.
The thoughts. Oh, man, am I freaking insane. I'm not asking. I'm exclaiming. I am asserting. I am Freaking Insane. And I was feeling okay. Well, sort of okay the last day or so. Thinking about my mom. Reading all your sweet comments. Talk of ice cream. How could that be bad? I even did a load of laundry.
But I could feel it building today. Once I finished grading. Once I had my mind free to think about how to resolve this semester. And come up with nothing. Once I had time to get anxious about calling doctors. About the possibility of ever trying again.
Once I started thinking about how my sister's doctors said that probably I had incomp.etent cervix, too. That they think that's probably what caused the p-prom. Possibly. And that what happened to me was like getting hit by lightning. Fucking lightning. How do I keep beating the freaking odds?
And my sister, too? We should both buy a lottery ticket because, really, what are the odds?
I last talked to her on Saturday, by the way. Giving her some space, but emailing to stay in touch. She was okay, though she's starting to feel it, I think. Very much of the "putting this behind" her camp, whereas I just can't let go.
I think we're both screwed.