Worry

I am overcome with anxiety. I have this distinct feeling that everything I love in life is going to vanish. Or that tragedy lurks in places I can't see ... that something bad is going to happen to everyone I love and I'll be left here to pick up the pieces of a life I don't want.

Pat leaves the house and I'm a wreck. What if something happens to him while he's in the car? What if he's mugged on his way to work? What if a mass murderer knocks on the door when I'm not home and kills him? I went for a run the other day and was petrified the whole time that I was going to run into someone that wanted to rape me. But that he would kill Bailey before he did it. I was practically sprinting, just to get home to safety.

I know I can't live like this, and believe me, I talk to my crazy lady about it. But I only take Ativan at night, because I don't want to be in a fog during the day. I am petrified it will make me less alert and miss the opportunity to stop said tragedy from occurring. Some people lead tragic lives. Part of me says we've had our fair share of tragedy, the other part of me says the black cloud is following me and I have to do everything in my power to avoid getting rained on.

My dad used to have a quote on our refrigerator, because I worried a lot growing up too. It said, "Worry is like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but gets you nowhere." And I know that's the case, but when the panic hits, it takes over and all my fears seem so real ...

Missing Brienna

I miss my baby. So much. Sometimes, I can be sitting on the couch, watching TV with Pat and the ache for her is so great, it takes my breath away and I'm reduced to tears ... she's never coming back :( Sometimes I don't think I can go through the rest of my life without her. I long for her and wish with all my heart that she was here with us ... I came across this poem on Becki's blog and hope she doesn't mind that I'm borrowing it:

For a short time, I had your body in my body.

I carried your belly in my belly.

And now, though I have your heart in my heart and feel your soul in my soul,

I will never have your hand in my hand.

I miss your life in my life.

So perfect.

Missing you Brienna Marie. Always and forever.

Painful Reality

I thought I had resigned myself to the fact that this miscarriage was going to happen. I thought I was okay with it, that I could handle it and that everything was going to be okay. I was painfully wrong.

I had been spotting/bleeding since about Monday. I called to check in with the MD like they told me to and was basically just waiting. Friday morning, bleeding seemed to really increase. I was trying to be "normal" and was preparing to go out and run some errands when I figured I'd call the doctor's office. Typically, I call in, ask for the nurse's line and leave a message. Everyone there has been nothing but nice to both Pat and I. This time, however, was different. When I reached the nurse's line to leave a message, I said who I was and that I was calling in as asked to provide an update on the progress of my miscarriage. The woman on the phone paused and then said "um yeah ... this is an INFERTILITY clinic." I paused in disbelief as tears welled up in my eyes and said, "yes, I realize that. I've been there for months and calling to check in for the past two weeks". Without saying a word, she transferred me to someone else so I could leave a message for the nurse to call me back. I was stunned and pissed and amazed that anyone could so easily disregard the fact that a person was having a miscarriage.

After I left a message, I was so sad and teary that I decided to not go out. Which ended up being a very good thing. I laid on the couch and decided to watch a movie. I wasn't feeling very good, and started having some serious cramping. The nurse called back at that point, and I told her how I was feeling, etc. Things were fine. About an hour later, the pain was so bad, I threw up (only other time that's ever happened was in labor). I was doubled over in pain and so nervous, because I had no idea what was supposed to be happening. I was crying at that point and called the nurse back and she assured me this was normal and called in an Rx for Vicodin and Zofran for me. I called Pat at work and he left early to pick them up for me.

The pain had majorly decreased at this point and I went to the bathroom again, because it seemed like the only thing to do. As I peed, I passed these huge blood clots. I was scared, so picked them out of the toilet to examine them. I didn't know what to do, but was crying and just so sad. By the time Pat got home, the pain wasn't enough to need medicine. I felt physically okay. Mentally, I felt so defeated. I knew that wasn't the end of it, but at least knew what had caused the pain. The nurse had told me, if the Vicodin doesn't control the pain, go to the ER and if the pain lasts more than 24 hours, go to the ER. Luckily, that wasn't necessary.

Later that night, as I was wiping from going to the bathroom, I felt more clot that wouldn't come off on the tissue. This is so gross, but it was this huge hunk of tissue that I basically had to pull out of myself because it was stuck there. I have no idea if that was the right thing to do or not ... but I couldn't just leave it there. That seemed like the worst of it, but now I feel some pretty serious cramping again. I'm still passing clots and just passed more tissue. I have no idea if this is normal or not. I'm not doubled over in pain by any means (I'm blogging, so it clearly isn't bad), but this is how things started on Friday and I'm worried about what that means. Should I take some pain meds to stay on top of it? Or will doing that mask the symptoms?

With everything that's happened, I feel like there is a black cloud following me. I'm petrified I'm going to hemorrhage or something. Like if something can go wrong, it will. Because it's me. I'm petrified something is going to happen to Pat or Bailey. I'm just a wreck in general. Part of me says "it's just a miscarriage". The other part of me is devastated. I feel so empty and defeated. Not like when Brienna died, but empty nonetheless. And inadequate. And just sad. I see the doctor again on Wednesday and kinda wish it was tomorrow. I just wish I knew what was normal ... that I knew if this was supposed to be happening.

I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I thought it would be relatively pain-free. How wrong I was ... on so many levels.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Pat and I were driving home last night when Somewhere Over the Rainbow (the Israel Kamakawiwo version) came on. As tears started welling up in my eyes, Pat said, "this song makes me sad." I started sobbing at that point and cried almost the whole way home. Sometimes, I just cannot believe that Brienna is gone. That we are surviving this. It's incredible how the pain is still so acute. How I ache for her. We talked so much on the ride home. We talked about getting tattoos, something we've talked about since June 2, 2009 but never did anything about. This time, we really talked about it. We talked about what they'd say, where they'd be. And I think we might do it. Together. Which makes me happy. I want to be marked on the outside, because I am certainly marked on the inside.

I love you and I miss you so much Brienna Marie ...

Hope

I just read a book called After You by Julie Buxbaum ... it was excellent and a part of it really stuck with me. I had a conversation with a friend about hope the other day. How it's a double-edged sword. Hope is the only thing that got me through Brienna's pregnancy ... without, I would have been even more of a mess than I was! Yet is also can be devastating ...

The quote in the book that resonated with me is, "Wanting may be the worst feeling of all, next to hope. But hope is the worst. Hope is the moment before peeing on the negative stick. Hope is the moment before they tell you they can't find a heartbeat. Hope is a setup, a bait and switch, an illusion."

If I could add to that, I would say hope is the moment before they tell you your daughter isn't breathing, that she has no heartbeat. Hope is being convinced she'll be born alive, only to have her be born still. Hope is getting pregnant again, thinking you paid your dues already only to have a miscarriage.

Hope really is a double-edged sword ... it gets you through life, but it can break your heart too.

Where Have I Been?

I have no idea ...

It's been over a year since my baby died. That is a tough pill to swallow. I worry that because it's been that long, people will think I should be "better" or "moving on". To them I say, screw you. It doesn't hurt any less that Brienna isn't here ... I miss her with every fiber of my being. I think about her first thing in the morning, all throughout the day and as I attempt to fall asleep at night. Her not being here SUCKS. There is no way to sugar coat it ...

After our long struggle to get pregnant, we decided to see an RE. It had been a year, and we really want more kids. So, we went to the RE and guess what - pregnant. Ironic right? But as appears to be the case with us, things did not go as planned. Beta's didn't double right away, but then did and to make a long story short, I'm having a miscarriage. At 8 weeks 2 days, our little baby had no more heartbeat :( We are so sad. I'm now at 10 weeks and waiting for the miscarriage to happen. It's a strange time. I finally started seeing some spotting last night, so I think my body is doing what it's supposed to do, but it has not been a fun couple of weeks. The loss of this baby exacerbates Bri.enna not being here. I would like to avoid misoprostol or a D&C, so am praying my body works. We deserve at least that right?

On the house front (oh yeah, did I mention my house flooded back in March? A 500-year flood happened and our entire basement and 26" of our first floor were filled with nasty, brown water). Good times. We're hoping to be back there in 6-8 weeks though, which will be so nice. I miss it. I miss my safe spot, my comfort zone. We saved all of BMM's things, so that was really all that mattered to me. But we lost a lot of stuff. Insurance pays for some of it, so we're lucky. At this point, we just want to go home.

So that's my life in a nutshell. Lucky me, huh?

The Wait Is On ...

... and I don't really like it. It's been just about a week since we learned our baby had no heartbeat. At the advice of my doctor, I didn't go to work since we found out and I am kinda wishing I did. I feel so inadequate. That is the only way I can describe things ... having babies is supposed to be the most natural thing a woman does. And I can't do it. Or at least I don't have a "successful outcome". It sucks. I am sad and want things to be different. I want this miscarriage to just happen so we can move on. I've been doing way to much research online and am petrified of what it's going to be like. There is a part of me that wishes we had just done things right away, taken the misoprostol and had it happen immediately. Waiting is hard. Harder than I thought and yet at the same time, could be much worse. I feel almost numb to the whole thing. I am quite sure that when it happens, I won't feel the same way. But for now, I feel numb and probably in denial. BOO.