Always Something There to Remind Me

I know that things get easier. But there is always something there to remind me. I have been meaning for the last two or three months to find a memory type box to put the baby's things in, but I haven't managed to find one. The bear and blanket I bought for him just sit there on my desk mocking me. The DB journal has entries in it about everything from the excitement to my mini-breakdown a few weeks ago. I threw the pregnancy test away out of rage and not knowing that it would take a while before I saw what another positive one looked like. There are definite things that I want to put away. I just saw the video clip where C calls me "Mommy" and asks to see my belly. All of this, or most of this, is already put away in my mind in the Things-I-Don't-Want-to-Think-About box, but like I said, there is always something there to remind me.

We stopped by the house of a guy that C used to work with to drop off an engine. His wife came out. C had unceremoniously announced my pregnancy at 9 weeks when we came into town for my first appointment and we went by his old offices. Of course everyone was really excited. So when his wife came out (I'm not even sure I could tell you her name) and looked me up and down with a very confused look, I was confused too. The thought flitted across my mind about the pregnancy announcement and no official retraction being made, but I thought no way. But yes. She hugged me, gave me another weird look, and asked me if I just had a baby. No, I said, I miscarried in February at 11 weeks. She said she was so sorry and that she understood because she'd had an ectopic pregnancy a few years ago and they'd taken part of an ovary. This really does happen to more women than I'd ever imagined. It's just not talked about until you've joined the club. I told her that we were trying again and that yes, she was right, I'd be very pregnant right now if everything had gone accordingly. There's always something to remind me.

Heaped on top of that, there is a small amount of evidence (waiting to be confirmed) that it is my fault, my body's fault, that we aren't pregnant yet. And that kills me a little bit. I wanted to have faith that nothing was wrong and that it would just eventually happen for us, but it's really not looking like it will. Okay, reading two books this weekend about infant loss and 28 week loss + hysterectomy (where both of the protagonists were unstable to say the least) was not helpful. Definitely NOT HELPFUL.

Redemption was found in talking to AM, playing with little E, hanging with R, N#2, and cousin S. The creek was not flowing and very mossy.