I sit here, staring at my computer screen, not even knowing where to begin.  Emotions have flooded through me, thoughts pounding away.

Quite simply, I don’t know what to do with this.

After all of the bleeding and clotting that came last night (a couple of overnight pads worth), I can’t believe I’d have much left inside.  But, it still keeps on coming.  The cramps have doubled, intensifying as my body pushes out things the ultrasound never picked up.

I’m sad, grieving for a baby I’ll never get to hold here on this Earth.

And, I feel so alone as I pass this baby and the hopes that went with it – with no one in the next room waiting to just sit and be with me.  Yesterday, I waited alone, wondering when it would happen, still clinging to the faintest of hopes that I’d be among the tiny statistics of babies missed on ultrasounds, crazy math, or just wacky hormones doing their thing.  I was hoping this pregnancy was salvageable.

Today, I yearn to climb back into bed with a bottle of tylenol and sleep the world away for a little while.  I cry harder every time a new message comes  – messages meant to inspire and comfort me.  But, all I can do is cry.  For me, it’s not just a matter of “making a new one.”  I didn’t just lose a lego, I’m losing a baby – a baby that can never be replaced and will always be just a shadow in every family portrait.  I can’t re-make THIS baby.  This baby is gone.

I pick up my little Aurora, as she pulls on my shorts, feeling the cramps intensify.  I never thought I’d be doing this alone.  But, really, life goes on…even when it doesn’t.  I’m afraid to answer the phone when it rings, unable to take in another “me too” story.  I’m appreciative of the thoughts behind it, but I don’t think I can hear another one.  Their babies don’t make me feel better about this one.  Somehow, the thought that this happens a lot…and could easily again to me…doesn’t comfort me.

Between the sheets of my bed has become my “sanctuary.”  I just want to curl up and read myself into another time, another place until my eyes close and I drift off to my own altered reality of dreams. ( I wish meals made themselves and that rather than being depended on, I could depend on someone else for a little while.)

I’m hurting and I’m sad.  I’m scared about what this means for the future, and I’m hesitant.  So hesitant.

I realize God uses everything for some bigger purpose – I’ve never doubted that, and there is no anger.  But, it doesn’t make it hurt any less for now.

Welcome back!