Thursday, September 10, 2015

9/10/15

I knew today would be tough. It's been looming over head for 7 months. The day my fourth and last bird was supposed to arrive Earth-side.

I woke up at 5:30 am. A time I rarely see willingly. And when I saw the time I thought, "Yep, I should be at the hospital if not on my way to the hospital." And then I cried. Solidly for 1 1/2 hours. I finally peeled myself off the bed and went in to the bathroom. The scene of the crime. This place that was supposed to cleanse me made me feel dirty and sad.

This is where I lost my baby. This is where my dreams went literally down the drain.

Overall I think I've handled the miscarriage pretty well. At least to the outside world. I tried my best to not talk about it or burden others with my sorrow. But I always had a dull ache. If I got too quiet I thought about it. Thought about how far along I would be,  the changes that would have to take place: changing of bedrooms, putting the crib back together, buying little baby diapers (the cutest things on Earth), buying cases of wipes, arranging grandparent coverage. And today all the thoughts converged in to a sad, weepy Emily.

It's amazing how a day can carry so much weight for you but for the entire world it's just another day. Wake up, drink coffee, go to work, eat some food, happily go about your day. I had to put on a front. Not a good front, but one good enough to get me back to my bed so I could nap.

I must admit though, today made me look at my kids in a whole new light. They are such neat kids with interesting personalities. They keep me going. They put a smile on my face. I've thought about their births a lot today as well. Just how exciting it is to find out if they are a boy or girl, see their cute faces, rub their soft hair, kiss tiny fingers and toes. In the hospital I hold my babies really close to my chest and let them snuggle as much as they want. Gabe was so close to me at one point that a nurse woke me up while I was napping with him to tell me he might suffocate. Well lady, he still sleeps that close to me five years later and hasn't suffocated yet! I love a baby. I love a baby on my chest. And I think that's what is making me the most sad, that a tiny love bug isn't in my arms right now. I should be introducing the lil nug to his/her brother and sisters. Grandparents should be holding a burrito baby tonight.

And my sweet, dear husband should be swaddling the babe, remarking on how little the baby is and how big our kids are. He should be running out to get me my latest craving. Instead he'll be coming home to a wife that's just really heartbroken.

The last month has been really sad. A lot of tough stuff is going on and I feel guilty for being so sad about this. But loss is loss. And it sucks. All I can hope is that today is it. That I needed to get through the birth date and then I'll be fine...

I got this advice from a sorority sister after Gabe's seizure, pretty fitting now, "Press forward, pray, take it one day at a time."