picking up the pieces

Today I went to work, was fairly productive, and am getting ready to head to a civic organization meeting.  My life looks the same as it did last Tuesday; my heart, however, feels different.  I think that's one of the hardest things about this journey...your losses, your pain, are for the most part invisible.  I am usually thankful that I do not have to rehash our story over and over again, but I sometimes wish that there were some way that others could tell I was hurting.  Maybe if they could see my loss they would be less callous and more understanding of the time required to heal.

I haven't really processed this latest loss yet...I am still in my "dazed" faze.  I can tell, though, that the physical proof that the pregnancy is over is on its way.  My back hurts, cramps are beginning--the official end is near.  Thanks for sticking with me through this ordeal.

worst fears confirmed

We got our hCG results back, and my fears were confirmed...this pregnancy is, once again, not viable.  We are broken, confused, angry, devastated.  For some reason I thought that each loss might get easier, but it doesn't.  Each baby we lose is uniquely loved and will be uniquely missed.  My heart is punctured with three holes now, and none hurt less than the others.  I truly don't understand why God allows us to continue to conceive when every conception results in heartbreak.

I am so afraid to think about where we go from here.  We are meeting with our doctor Thursday to discuss genetic testing and anything else we can do to look for a reason. 

Thank you all for sitting with me and encouraging me this weekend.  I treasure your comments and am thankful for all of your support.

living on a prayer

"Though my flesh and my heart fail, God is the rock of my heart, my portion forever."  Psalm 73:26

I have always loved the Psalms.  David's honesty in his conversations with God is awe-inspiring.  He is not afraid to show anger and frustration, yet he constantly acknowledges God's sovereignty and goodness.

Our journey with infertility and pregnancy loss tests my faith daily.  Never before have I felt so shaken, so alone.  While I once firmly believed that the trials we experienced would serve some purpose, that there was some plan for our lives, I now find myself saying aloud that sometimes things just happen and nothing good is meant to come from them.  I still believe in God, but I find it difficult to sing of His goodness and love after the loss of our two precious pregnancies.  I believe that some of my disillusionment stems from the reverence with which I was taught to address God.  While growing up, I was never told that it's okay to yell and scream and be angry with Him.  Instead, I was taught to pray by saying how wonderful He was and how thankful I was for everything in my life.

So, I am now giving myself permission to tell God exactly how I feel...to tell Him how much this sucks, and how it is not fair that A and I cannot have a baby because we are good people who would love a child so deeply.  I plan to tell Him just how angry I am that I never got the chance to meet the two little ones that A and I conceived, and that I cannot believe He would allow so many couples to go through this terrible battle.  Any good relationship requires honesty, so I think it's worth a try.