What a day. It feels like years have passed since last night. Dr. H attributes the pregnancy loss to implantation failure. The embryo was growing, but couldn't quite get a foothold. Why? Don’t know. An undefined something in my uterus may be to blame. Decisions need to be made sometime, but for today, I just let in and accept today's reality. I want to throw my computer out the window, I want to scream and yell, and I want to stare, with inner blindness, at the TV. I want to clean the house and throw shit out. Out with the old. Out with the trials and tribulations, out with the dashed hopes, out with the wishing, the endless endless wishing. In with peace, sweetness, oak trees and sun, Thai coconut soup, a new start, a gentle rub on the head from my loving imperfect great husband. Now don’t get me wrong, as stubborn and tenacious we are, I’m sure we’ll try again. But today our job is to just love each other and get through it as best and balanced as we can.
When I left San Francisco today, I got lost. It’s a drive I’ve done a million times. It is, indeed, a struggle to find my way now. No guideposts or directions or books. I crave openess and lightness; it’s too dark. I need a clearing to find my way.
Understand I did my best. I want that baby-to-be to know I did EVERYTHING I could to keep her warm and safe. They are like little ghosts, each embryo living inside me for too short a time. They find a home for a bit, but don't/can't stay long enough. No heartbeats for this one, no breath of fresh air through her lungs in 7 months.
It seems easy, doesn’t it, to just breathe in an out, right now. But this little being just can’t quite get to that point. I find it very sad. I know this will work out the way it should, with the pieces of our lives falling into place. But for today, I need to just say: it’s sad. Very sad.