This blog has become an almost forgotten piece of my past. I only stop by once a year to dump bad news. I miss writing and would like to write about something else, but honestly I've been so preoccupied and depressed that nothing else really comes out. I started off the summer with yet another loss. Two in one year. I didn't learn my lesson the first time. I still got just as hopeful and excited, even as I tried to be guarded. Secretly I thought I couldn't have two miscarriages in a row. My problem was always just getting pregnant, not staying pregnant. This time I only made it to 6 weeks before I started bleeding. I left work a total wreck and went straight to my OB's office. They did an ultrasound and said they couldn't tell for sure, there might be something viable, it was still too early to tell. I should get serial quants and come back in 3 days. The quants were reassuring, and my bleeding stopped, but by three days later the ultrasound was clear. Missed AB. There was nothing like a baby in there. That was it.
It still doesn't feel right to say I lost a baby this time, since there was never much more than some cells that didn't line up quite right, but it was a significant loss. I lost the future I had imagined with that child, and it hurt--bad. It was only a few weeks, but I could already see Jojo as a big brother. Our family would become four. I was pregnant with my sister-in-law and one of my best friends. The kids would be close in age. The pain of the first loss would be soon forgotten, replaced by the joy of a healthy pregnancy, but that's not how the story ended. So here I am at the end of the summer still licking my wounds. Scarred by the experience and wondering what comes next. I'm not sure how many rounds I have in me.