Book Review: Expecting Sunshine

*Full disclosure: I had this review typed and ready to go for last week (Friday) but I pulled it because I felt like I really need to include why I chose this book so that is why this is up today and why I have two posts today.*

Expecting Sunshine - Alexis Marie Chute

Anyone who has experienced—or knows someone who has experienced—miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, stillbirth, or other forms of pregnancy and baby loss should read Expecting Sunshine, including those considering or already pregnant again. 

After her son, Zachary, dies in her arms at birth, visual artist and author Alexis Marie Chute disappears into her “Year of Distraction.” She cannot paint or write or tap into the heart of who she used to be, mourning not only for Zachary, but also for the future they might have had together. It is only when Chute learns she is pregnant again that she sets out to find healing and rediscover her identity—just in time, she hopes, to welcome her next child. 

In the forty weeks of her pregnancy, Chute grapples with her strained marriage, shaken faith, and medical diagnosis, with profound results. 

Glowing with riveting and gorgeous prose, Expecting Sunshine chronicles the anticipation and anxiety of expecting a baby while still grieving for the child that came before—enveloping readers with insightful observations on grief and healing, life and death, and the incredible power of a mother’s love.

If you read my blog you will know that I have four children. If you've read my blog for a long time you will know that I miscarried a child before I had Penelope. You will also know that I went through a fairly hellish delivery with Lucy and I've had some serious issues since then. I went into this book experiencing different kinds of loss than Alexis had but I could understand some of her feelings. I could absolutely relate to grieving, and trying to heal, but also trying to reconcile with a new future that you didn't plan.

In my case, I really struggled after my miscarriage because I could never understand what it was like to lose a life within you. We hear about it, we say we're sorry, and we move on when it's happening to others. When its you going through that and having to look on an ultrasound screen days later to see it is, in fact, empty, it's a completely different ball game. Even now it's five years later and I still think about that child and what they would have been. They would be going to kindergarten this year. I can't get too sad because I likely wouldn't have Penelope or Lucy and I can't imagine life without them now, but still. I get sad. My situation with Lucy could have been significantly worse because I could have died for good versus having died but come back. Lucy could have died. I don't talk about it much because people say I'm crazy, but after my entire ordeal I was told that I "most likely" will never be able to have a child again. I have all of my organs, but I no longer have working hormones, and they believe with all of the significant blood loss that it most likely damaged my ovaries. It's silly be we were DONE having babies after Lucy. That was it. Matt got a vasectomy anyways, as planned, and no more babies were going to happen. But still. Knowing that I no longer have that choice hurts. Every bizarre scenario goes through my head and none of them make sense because I'm 37- I'm not trying to have any more babies. What if Matt dies and I remarry and he really wants kids? What if in a few years Matt wants to try for another boy? What if I want to help a friend have a child? What if I don't feel "done"? What if.... None of it is rational but that doesn't make the thoughts go away. So I've gone through an entire grieving process of saying goodbye to that part of my life and walking into a new one.

So.

I went into this book with big feelings and I came out with even bigger feelings. In here we get an up close and personal look at Alexis and her journey through grief having to say goodbye to her son Zachary as it becomes he would not be leaving the hospital. They learn of this during her pregnancy so it has to be a special kind of hell to know you won't get to see any of those milestones or even get the bare minimum of moments with your child. We see her gradual walk through the grieving process and the support groups, and the test it was to her marriage and her faith. I really could relate to her feeling like she didn't need medication or a counselor because that was me in the months immediately after Lucy's birth. I was so angry when either were suggested to me by people because it felt like they were saying I could be recovering better, like I can't even do that right, but when my delivering doctor mentioned it, that's when it sounded like something I really wanted to do. I honestly credit her for me being alive (a second time) because had I not gone to those first appointments, I would have killed myself. I know it and I have said it many times. I really needed a total stranger to me and the entire situation to validate what I was feeling because nobody in my life was doing that for me in a way that didn't feel like them placating me.

Alexis would go on to get pregnant again and the worry and anxiety throughout her pregnancy were completely understandable and expected, but that doesn't make it easier on her or anyone around her. It's hard to make someone feel better when you cannot predict the future but you also can't understand what it feels like to be in that exact situation, so while I don't know what that pregnancy would feel like, I really could empathize and relate to that isolation she felt.

Overall? A solid 4 stars. The book reads incredibly fast and reading it feels like she's sitting across a table telling you her life story so it's not the monotonous voice that some memoirs have. The only reason I gave it 4 instead of 5 was because I, as it turns out, could not read about her labor and delivery of her baby Eden. Since having Lucy I have PTSD and I have a really hard time being around pregnant people and babies (especially newborn babies), but in a fun development, I can't hear or read about babies. So if nothing else, I've learned that about myself and that's upsetting. So that's on me. If it were anyone else they would give it 5 stars because this is really terrific.

If you, or someone you know, has or is currently in the process of grieving of a lost child or even a lost experience, this is a really great book to look into as a resource. Forget the self help books written by men who have never experienced it, listen to someone who has hiked through it.

   

I received a copy of this book for review in exchange for review, all thoughts are my own. This post also contains affiliate links which help keep my blog going. Thank you! 

January 18.

I wasn't sure how I would write about it, I wasn't sure if I should, but then I thought it would be weird if I didn't acknowledge it, because it was a tough day.

So way back in June, I suffered a miscarriage. I chronicled what it was like to lose it in the days after. It would feel strange to not say anything about what it's like for the due date to come and go and you realize at that very moment, you could have been holding a newborn.

But you aren't.

And it's tough. It's really tough because I've gotten kind of a mix of responses to my posts.

1. You get the people who are absolutely, 100% sympathetic and kind and wonderful. They are there when it's tough and they don't try to minimize what it means for you to be going through it.

2. There are the "Oh, yeah- I've had those too. You'll be fine." group. I don't think they realize how awful that sounds, and they are probably trying to be really supportive and let you know that hey- shit happens, and you'll actually be fine.

3. Then there are the people who say nothing. Or they think I shouldn't share it, that it's something that should be handled in private. I don't really understand the reasoning on this point of view, and I wonder if it's only because it makes them uncomfortable, for whatever reason.

But here's what I learned: that it's important to share good things, and it's important to share bad things. There's always that fine line on social media where you hear about every terrible detail about a person and you realize you know more about the marriage of some loser you went to high school with than you do your best friend because it's just out there all of the time. Then there is the other end where people are practically pooping rainbows and they have the BEST kids and the BEST husband and the BEST everything and go on the BEST trips, several times a year, and Jesus did it all for them because isn't he just the BEST?!

I'm here to call bullshit on the rainbow poopers because I happen to know Jesus doesn't pay your bills, you're probably in debt to your eyeballs, your husband has days where he's a jerk too, and your kid is probably going to be a mean girl in high school.

So after mulling all of that in my head, I decided to share with you what it was like to see my due date come and go. Because it's all part of the process.

It was hard.

It was really hard when I realized that this was it. I knew it was coming and somehow I kind of spaced it out the couple of days before. I wasn't feeling very well and my level of exhaustion was high and I was already feeling low on life. I woke up that morning, feeling sick as hell, having contractions, and I hadn't had my blood pressure medicine in three days because I didn't have money for it, but it was my niece's baptism, so I was trying to rally.

I managed to rally and get the kids and myself to the baptism and while sitting there, I realized that it was January 18. And I started to tear up. I could feel Penelope moving, and I had Olivia and Jackson on either side of me. I left as soon as I could, and thankfully when I got home, Matt was just getting home. He got the kids some lunch and I went upstairs to lay down.

And I just cried.

It's weird how all of these months later and it feels all the same. It feels like I just lost that baby. The only solace I've had is that I've got my little Penelope just baking away, seemingly perfect in every way. I have nothing to be sad about. But it was hard. I think the worst thing was that Matt didn't even say a word. It didn't even occur to him that the day held any significance. I tried to talk to him about it but he's kind of an emotional mute when it comes to this kind of thing.

The nice thing is that every day it gets better. I know I won't always feel sad about this. I know someday, I will maybe not even acknowledge the due date. Maybe not the day I lost the baby. Which also makes me feel guilty, I feel like if I don't acknowledge it, it's like I'm saying that baby isn't worth it. Like it didn't mean anything, so easily forgotten.

So I am going to scrapbook the ultrasound photos I do have. I don't want that baby to ever be a thing forgotten. For the rest of my life I'll have to acknowledge that I had a miscarriage on medical forms. But it'll be OK. I'm going to be OK. Pretty soon, my days (and nights) will be so full of Penelope it won't hurt as much. Heck, with her due in May, maybe I'll be too exhausted to acknowledge the one year anniversary of my miscarriage? There's some optimism.

Ignoring the sad stuff is not supportive.

You know how when something sad happens, we all are divided between two types of people: people who rush in to say how sorry they are and really, if there is anything I can do.... or the people who say nothing because they don't know what to say or do and just feel awkward and don't want to make the other person feel worse so it's best to just do and say nothing. 

It doesn't matter what the tragedy is, we will always fall into those two categories. 

But once you have firmly placed yourself in a category, it's what you do once you are there that counts. It's lovely to say that you'll help out with whatever, and then conveniently never come back around or worse, are too busy or not available to help when called upon. That's really the worst kind of person to be, really. You may as well put yourself with the do nothing group from the start because then there isn't any disappointment. 

Admittedly, I never really understood what any of this was like until Matt and I had marriage issues, but at the time, I was so young. Our friends were young. And a lot of "friends" weren't really friends at all. I had spent years cultivating good friendships after that, ones that I thought would be really pillars of support for me should anything awful happen again. Because we all need that. We all need a solid support system, be it family or friends. Life is just so much easier knowing you have people ready to rally behind you and hold you up. 

After my miscarriage, I don't think I ever fully verbalized what that did to me on the inside. Sure, I have two great kids already. Sure, I wasn't really sure if I wanted a third and it was sprung on me and I was terrified and worried. But having all of it taken away is really quite cruel. I have had enough time to really think about it, do some research on my own and I really feel like I should have waited another two weeks. I think maybe my pregnancy wasn't as far as they thought and I blindly believed whatever they told me because I hadn't really processed being pregnant in the first place, and now they tell me it's not viable and here is a prescription, you can handle it there and you'll be fine. I really wish I had waited just to see. So then cue the guilt, you know? 

But what I wasn't prepared for was how  unavailable people were. Don't get me wrong, I have friends who were great. I got care packages in the mail, I had people running my kiddos to their activities for a few days, I had friends texting or messaging me to see if I needed anything, how I was holding up. 

There was a large majority however, that did nothing. I got the obligatory "I'm so sorry" and that was it. Each month my period came and I would get a little more upset. I'd cry in the baby section of Target. I'd seize up when I saw a pregnant woman walk by me, happily rubbing her belly no doubt feeling tiny kicks from inside. So many times this summer I reached out to people to ask to go for a walk, go for lunch, just hang out in any way because I needed to feel normal, I needed to talk my emotions out to women who would get it because there are things Matt, as a man, would not understand at all. Mostly, I just wanted to cry and have someone tell me I'm not a terrible mother and it's OK. 

Not once did any of these people follow through. 

And I get it. Life is busy. I'm busy. We're all busy. But I tell you what- if someone called me and said they needed to get out of the house and just let it out? You bet your ass I'm putting whatever I have aside to be that person. Because I know first hand what it takes to be in that place mentally and emotionally, and those are the people who need you the most. 

So again, we learn who is there when we need them. And it's disappointing. It feels like so much time was wasted investing in friendships and it was never two sided, it appears. 

But to EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU who emailed me, sent me a card, texted me, messaged me on Facebook, sent me a care package, who constantly think of me and ask how I'm doing- THANK YOU. You have absolutely no idea what this summer was like for me emotionally, how hard I tried to pull it together and I just couldn't. It was these things that would come when I needed them the most and they kept me from going totally down the hole of depression doom. 

At this point, I'm better. I'm not great, I'm still scared for another pregnancy and I don't think that will fully go away until a baby is born, but I'm trying so hard every day to just push through and be positive. My heart aches for the women that deal with this repeatedly, I honest to god don't know how you do it because once is more than enough heartbreak in my life. 

Just keep trying, right?

Ever since the miscarriage, Matt and I have basically been trying to get pregnant. I wasn't sure at first if that was something I wanted to do but the longer it takes to happen, the more I want it. September 3 will be four months since my miscarriage and it's getting harder and harder each month that passes.

I keep hearing people telling me to give it time, it'll happen if it's supposed to happen, give my body time to heal, etc. But it's all annoying and it makes me angry. Because now having been on the side of the coin where I want it so bad and I don't have it, those are really terrible things to say to someone in this circumstance.

I know that I'm relatively healthy, I haven't had any issues carrying my other babies. It's like ever since the miscarriage, with each passing month, I feel more broken. I wonder what is wrong with me. Why can't I get this right a third time? I see people who are not in a position in life to have more kids. I see people who don't even want kids getting pregnant. I see people who then have kids and are more worried about finding a husband, going out and "relaxing" at a bar, and I sit at home wishing with everything in me that I'm pregnant.

And nothing happens.

The part that worries me, is the part where I see Matt's face when he asks if I got my period (because I dutifully write it on the calendar) with a gleam in his eyes hoping I say no. And every month, he's less excited to ask and I kind of think this month, when my period is supposed to come on Wednesday, he might not even ask. If he doesn't ask, I feel like a little part of me is going to shut down. Like all hope is lost and he's going to say we gave it our best and maybe it wasn't meant to be and gee- could you go get your birth control again?

I don't know if I can handle that. I really don't.

I also can't blame him. When it comes to emotionally supporting me, he admittedly is really terrible. Anything to do with emotions is completely foreign to him and he basically just stands there and asks what he can do, as if doing laundry is going to make my heart hurt less. I try hard not to get angry at him for not understanding something he doesn't get but sometimes I can't help it. Sometimes I need to be angry and frustrated.

Someone asked me if the only reason I want a third baby is to prove to myself I can still do it. I'll admit, it's part of the reason, but certainly not all. I had wanted a third baby for years and Matt always said no and I had to grieve and come to terms that I was done. But I don't know, something about being pregnant, against my will basically, turned something on in me. Like, maybe this is the opportunity I never had before and I keep thinking it'd be great to have a third at times when I watch Olivia and Jackson play. Then I feel selfish and I worry I'll be resentful if I have a third.

Then I get angry because I feel like I'm going crazy and maybe this all a symptom of something larger.

It's just so frustrating.

Then the trying. My god. I remember when we were trying with Olivia and Jackson it was always fun, there was an added element and a spark you only get in certain moments because I just knew I was going to get pregnant, it's just a matter of when. And this time... well this time it's not any of that. I don't feel as certain as I once did and it's like being slapped in the face with the aging process. And I'm only 32, I know. It's not old by any means but times like this make me feel otherwise.

So that's where we're at. I hope Wednesday comes and surprises us all. I don't feel hopeful though, but you never know I guess. But I guess we just keep trying until Matt says no more.

One month.

Friday marked one month since my miscarriage.

At the time I was so sad and I honestly felt like I wasn't ever going to feel better. I won't lie and say every day is great because that's not true. There are times where I'll be at Target and find myself staring at baby onesies and blankets and I just feel so damn empty. Or I'll see a pregnant woman and think, that could have been me. I would be showing right now. I would be getting the room ready and I would be getting excited for the baby shower my friend was planning.

But I'm not. I'm not any of those things.

Some days go by and I think, maybe it was a blessing.Then others go by and I so desperately want a baby I can barely breathe. I still can't look at the little onesies I bought to get myself excited about having a baby. I feel sad going into the third room. I did buy curtains the other day and it just felt... too hopeful?

I have never, in all of my life, been so indecisive about something.

It doesn't help that Matt has decided he really wants another baby. The irony here is that I spent years essentially begging him to just consider a third baby and he shut the door on that each and every time. There was to be no discussion because two was it. He didn't want a third and he didn't want to talk about it. I'd try the "but it's important to me" card and he'd pull the "it's important to me not to have more" card and how can I argue with that? How can I say my desires are more important than his? I can't and I wouldn't.

But now the tables are turned. He wants another baby and I'm the one who is scared. I'm scared to go through another miscarriage, I'm scared we'll have a third and I'll be so unhappy and sad. I'm scared we can't afford it. I'm scared about daycare since my mom can't do it and I wouldn't ask her to rally and do it anyways. But then I feel guilty because Olivia and Jackson got to bond with her and adore her to pieces and I'm afraid the third won't have that bond and it's important to me. Irrational, it's totally irrational because I know my mom would eat a little baby up with kisses and love no matter what.

All of the things holding me back are in my head. They are all things that have solutions but it doesn't help me not think them. I'm psyching myself out and I hate it. I hate that at the one time in my life where I need to really decide what the hell I'm doing, I'm just sitting here not sure.

But, I got my period yesterday, right on cue. And though my doctor dutifully warned me it's going to be a bit harsher than any other period I've had and that's normal- that constant feeling that I'm being stabbed is kind of a bummer. Matt was kind of bummed out I wasn't pregnant. I feel like I've let him down. Again.

When I make my lists of why I would want another baby and why I would not, the would want list is a bit longer. Part of me feels a little cheated. When I had Olivia I had such awful post-partum depression I could barely function. I hardly remember her first year of life at all and I do feel that impacts the relationship I have with her now. Then with Jackson, I adored that little boy and he was the one that made me think my heart might explode with love. At the same time, Matt and I were in marriage counseling and I wasn't sure if we were even going to make it all while going through bankruptcy because though I can fix a lot of things, I couldn't fix his unemployment for half a year. It was a really awful time in our marriage. So part of me feels like, baby 3 could be the sweet spot. It could be what we wanted all along and just the combination of everything great about our family.

While at the fireworks on Friday, I realized how much I miss my kids being little. There are some real advantages and fun things about their ages now, but sometimes I miss holding a little child. I miss picking up toys in the living room. I miss little feet, sticky hands, Cheerios in my car, stroller walks, discovering new firsts and fresh out of the bath in footie pajamas. I look at my kids now and know they'd be excellent as a big brother and sister. I see how much they love each other, and though they fight, it's a bond I'm so glad I get to see. I always wanted to have more than just my one brother, though I love him dearly. So part of me feels like giving them another sibling is kind of a gift that gives long after I'm gone. Because some day, Matt and I will be gone and they'll only have each other.

My number one fear is that I'll have twins. I don't know if our family, in any way, could handle twins. I don't know if I could as a mother, primarily. I know where my limitations are and it scares me. I feel like twins could be the undoing. And twins run in my family, Jackson was a twin, it's not completely out of the question. I raise that concern with Matt and he says there's no way it'll be twins. He refuses to believe that is even a possibility.

*sigh*

I know it'll get easier. I'm sure I'll have some breakthrough moment where I just decide and that's that. I just hope it's sooner rather than later.

Time just keeps trucking along.

I've gotten lots of emails asking how I've been considering I've been a bit quiet the last few days. Overall, I'm OK. I can go several hours without crying and that's always a good thing.

Friday was pretty awful. I honestly didn't know what to expect with a follow up ultrasound. Thankfully, I asked my mom to come with me because at the last minute I didn't know if I really wanted to go alone. So she came and that was really helpful. I think having her there made me not break down in total tears because she would have told me to buck up and I would have. But I'll be honest- I couldn't look at the ultrasound. I just took the doctor's word for it that things looked good. My uterine lining is still ridiculously thick so all of that has yet to come out and then that means my HcG levels drop. Those have to go back to zero. Which means sometime this week (probably Thursday) I'll go in real quick to get a blood draw to see where I'm at. I keep going until that is back at zero.

Physically, I feel better. Not great, but better. I'm still having cramping but the contractions stopped around Saturday night. I felt fine most of Friday until after my appointment and then they started up again. On Saturday Matt and I ran errands and that wasn't smart. I ended up in a lot of pain and who knew walking around that much would trigger contractions? *sigh* But let's just say I was mighty thankful that I had put extra pads into my purse because I went through quite a few. And I had a really awkward moment while getting frozen yogurt when I just absolutely knew I was passing a blood clot or something. I remember the first time that ever happened to me after I had Olivia and it was disgusting. Thank god the place had a bathroom and Matt stood there holding my frozen yogurt, not totally sure what was happening.

He's a good guy, that one.

We went out to dinner at a really shitty place on Saturday. I mean, it was pretty gross. But we had planned to go see a movie and I'm just not a huge movie person so unless I'm in the mood, meh. So we opted to drive to Two Harbors instead and walk out to the lighthouse. Poor Matt didn't have a jacket so he basically froze his nipples off and I couldn't make it all the way to the end without feeling ridiculously crampy, but it was nice to be alone with him for awhile.

Sunday was kind of rough. The kids were coming back from spending the weekend with Matt's parents and I was missing them, but also wasn't sure if I could just deal with the loudness after having such a quiet weekend. But it turned out to be fine and they were missing me and spent an hour telling me all about their weekend. 

Yesterday was a bit of a rough day. I am working alone and full time hours this week since my boss is on vacation, and that's fine. I thought I was OK to be here all of that time but it proved to not be the case. Maybe it's too quiet so I just sit and think? I cried a few times at work yesterday. Not just because of the miscarriage and thinking about that, but I'm really frustrated with the health care system in general. I need to see a doctor for my high blood pressure before I have surgery next Thursday for my face. Do you think anyone cares? Nope. The soonest I can get in is September and beyond. If I tell them what my blood pressure is all of the time, they tell me to go to the ER. Which, great. If I had decent health insurance I would. But I don't and I cannot afford that. I don't even care which doctor I see at this point, I just want someone to tell me if it's safe to go under general anesthesia or if I should post pone the surgery. Which I don't want to do because my face is killing me and I want this damn tooth out. 

*sigh*

So far, my week is shaping up to be a bit rough. I really hope I have enough money to do something fun this weekend with the kids. Their last day of school is Friday and they keep asking if we're doing anything. I was hoping to go to a different zoo than our local one and combine it with Father's Day, but we'll see. 

And then it was gone.

I really don't know if I can sum up in words what my last 24 hours have been like. I know a week from now I will (hopefully) not be such a damn wreck. I know every day it's going to get easier. I flip flop from wishing I would just skip all of the middle and get to that point.... and wanting to really remember what this feels like and just... absorb it to memory.

Last night, true to form, contractions started and it's odd that I thought I had forgotten what that felt like but no, I didn't. That memory is neatly tucked away somewhere in my brain. Also strange because it's like slow motion, going through all of the exercises you would if you were in real labor just to get some damn relief. My doctor said I could take some over the counter medicine for pain but I never did. It's like, if I'm going to be punished, I may as well take all of it.

I managed to fall asleep somewhere around 10 p.m. despite bleeding a lot and a decent amount of pain. I woke up right at midnight though because something felt wrong so I hobbled to the bathroom and I have never seen so much blood in my life. I felt all kinds of stuff leave my body and I'm sobbing, Matt's there trying to bring me whatever comfort he can but he's also not quite awake. I had this horrifying moment where I was sure that that was the baby in the bottom of the toilet and I just cried. I fell asleep, crying, hugging a god damn toilet.

Fast forward to around 4 or 5 this morning. Again, felt really off and I am trying to deal with tears, my pajamas, the god damn dog who thinks I'm obviously having puppies and before I know it, something plops into my hand as I'm trying to get situated.

And I should have never looked. I shouldn't have. I know I paused but I couldn't stop myself.

It was very clearly my baby.

It was tiny. I could see eyes, the beginnings of where ears would be, the super beginnings of legs and arms, big head. It's like.... exactly what those computer images you see in "what your baby looks like now" videos on pregnancy websites. I don't know what I was expecting but that was horrible. It was horrible to know that I held the entire world in my hand and it was for nothing.

In hindsight, maybe I should have done some ceremonial thing, maybe I would feel closure. Instead, I admittedly freaked out and dropped it and flushed without thinking twice. I was so scared. I just panicked.

And I feel like shit. I feel like I just threw my baby away and I immediately regretted it.

And I cried. Oh, did I cry.

It was that moment that I knew there was no way in hell I was going to be able to work today. Not a damn chance. I really don't want to talk to people about it, I don't want to see pity in people's eyes, I don't want to hear the "I'm so sorry" because it just doesn't help. I feel like I'm firmly in the angry at the world phase. I think back to my appointment yesterday and a fucking crack head has a newborn, and I don't. If there really is a God, he's doing a really shitty job. He'd rather a baby be born addicted to drugs to someone who won't take care of it than give him to me when I would love the hell out of it? I mean, you can try to explain it away that we don't know why God does what he does, but when I look at everything in my life I just firmly don't believe he's there. We're all on our own, doing it for ourselves.

I know in my heart obviously, something was wrong with the baby. The stars didn't line up quite right and that's why I'm in the boat I am. When you look at everything that needs to happen just so to make a baby healthy, it's really a miracle we're able to birth so many babies at all. I know in my heart I am not equipped to hand a special needs child like others can. It just doesn't make it any easier to think my body failed me. It's like, all the precautions and care mean nothing in the end- it is what it is.

So tonight, I'm still bleeding and I'm crampy. I'm exhausted. My face is puffy. Every time I think I'm fresh out of tears, they just start silently pouring. It's like I don't even know I'm doing it anymore until it gets to full on ugly cry and I've got boogers all over myself. I really hope I can pull it together for tomorrow, since I absolutely HAVE to go to work tomorrow.

Friday will be awful. I have my appointment in the morning for my ultrasound to make sure everything that needs to be gone is. Matt is going to work because we have Jackson's kindergarten graduation and I'd rather have him there for that than my appointment. I'm debating on going alone or asking my mom to come. I don't know if that's something I'd rather just go to alone and maybe sit somewhere afterwards or not.

I will say, probably the worst part of today were my kids this morning. They both woke up and came to lay with me before getting ready for their school day, like we do every day. Jackson had been crying and just said to me, "Mama? Can we get another baby? I really wanted to be a big brother." I mean, my heart broke even more. Whatever thread it was hanging together by was gone at that moment because I felt like I let my kids down. Matt said to me last night he really believes we should try again. And I'm just... I don't know. I'm straight down the middle again.

So right now, I feel a little lost. I just feel like a balloon adrift. No real purpose, no end destination. It's just a phase. I'm sure in the coming weeks I'll feel better. I really wish I had the money to just.. go somewhere. Just book a vacation and go. I want to be on a beach and watch the water. Or just.. go somewhere warm and go hiking and relax in a pool. It feels like there's too much here weighing on me and I feel like I'm suffocating.

BUT, we're broke and that isn't going to happen. I'll guess I'll just take a bath.

I will close by saying thank you. Thank each and every one of you who have sent me a message, cards, email, text, whatever. I haven't responded but please don't think I didn't see it or I don't care. You don't have the right words to say and I don't know how to respond without seeming callous or like a nut job. I'm in a bad place right now but knowing I have so many behind me holding me up is really amazing. I don't know how much worse off I would be if I were all alone, and so I appreciate it. I do. Thank you so much for being so wonderful and kind. Every little bit helps.

Sigh.

Well. I don't think there is ever a good way to deliver bad news, is there? It's best to rip it off like a band aid, I suppose.

I lost my baby.

I went to the doctor today and I knew immediately that baby was gone. Not only was there no heartbeat, it wasn't any bigger and it looked.... it looked like a black hole. I knew right away. I couldn't look at Matt because I didn't want to cry. For once I just wanted to be strong. The ultrasound tech looked so sad and she just rested her head on my leg and said, "Oh honey.... things don't look like they should."

And I cried.

I cried so hard. Never in my life had I cried that hard. I felt like a failure. I felt like as a mother, I failed my baby. I felt like I let Matt down- I couldn't even carry his baby. I couldn't do it right and I'm sorry. I tried.

The irony here, is that it was that moment that made me realize how badly I wanted that baby.

I felt like I was being punished.

I think that ultrasound tech knew all of this was running through my head. All I remember is her hugging me as Matt stared as the still image of our dead baby, and her saying I was still a good mom. I didn't do anything wrong and that nature just worked out something that would have been harder for me later on.

In my head- I know all of this. I do.

I still can't look past it.

I left there with a prescription to essentially induce a miscarriage on my own. I know a lot of people opt for a D&C and I just couldn't. It felt cruel to just suck it out like it meant nothing at all. I feel like, as the mother, I can endure whatever pain and emotional upheaval is coming my way. I owe my baby that much.

I came home, followed the directions on the medicine and waited for my kids to come home. Thankfully, my mom said she could pick them up from school and bring them home. It's been a few hours. I was doing OK emotionally. Matt and I told the kids- they cried. They cried hard, which only makes me cry harder. Jackson asked me if we could still have a baby someday and I said maybe we could. Matt told me he would like to try again. Me being pregnant made him think three is in our future. I'm just too numb to think.

I was doing OK. I'm in some pain but it's not horrible. It feels exactly like early labor contractions, just as the doctor said they would. She said within 48 hours it should be gone. I go for a follow up ultrasound on Friday morning to make sure.

Right before Jackson's kindergarten graduation. I don't know how I'm going to keep it together during that as it is, and then I'll have this on me.

About an hour ago I felt a surge of pain and sure enough, I've started bleeding. That's when I lost it. I can't even tell you the guilt I feel right now. No amount of rationale is going to make this better for me. I know in a few weeks I'll be fine. I know I will. Right now I'm just crying because I just wish life would give me a fucking break. Why does everything have to be such a god damn uphill battle? Why can't things just happen and be amazing for me? What have I done to deserve nothing but struggle all of the way? I'm a good person. I do good things for people, I try to be kind and thoughtful, I help everyone who needs it when I can. And yet, none of it even matters because my heart is so battered some days I can't even breathe.

And now I get to feel my baby leave my body and it'll be for nothing.

The alarming thing is that the doctor held my hands and said, "Sara. I want you to prepare yourself and do not be alarmed. You ARE going to pass a noticeable size of tissue. It won't look like a baby, but you're going to know what it is. I don't want you to be scared, I want you to be prepared. You can do this." I left there feeling like I had a plan and I was going to do this.

And now it's started and I am absolutely terrified. I'm sad and terrified.