"I Guess I'll See You Next Lifetime"

After almost a year and two baby losses I have come to realize (for tonight...maybe just tonight) that some things are just scientific, random, biological laws of nature...otherwise known as the other side of statistics that someone has to be on. As much as it hurts us like crazy and makes us question everything we have ever known and believed in, the truth is it just so happen to be us. That's it. Nothing special about it. No reason that we were selected for this fate other than the fact that it had to be somebody. We are the somebodies!!!

Next step is up to us. How do we choose to view this? How do we choose to move on? For me, I like to think that my babies needed a special, sacred, loving, and nurturing space for just a limited time. I like to think that they instinctively knew that only I could provide the space where they could feel pure love, peace, joy, and at home. I'm so special that they chose to come to me.

Sometimes I think and believe that now just wasn't the time for us to be together here on earth..."Now what I'm I supposed to do when I want you in my world?" As much as it may pain me in the here and now, I'd like to think that I will see and be with them next lifetime. Maybe we'll be butterflies together at the same time. I'll just have to wait a little while.

For days that I choose to look at this scientifically and statiscally...the numbers just add up. One in five pregnancies end in baby losses. I am the one in five. Twice. That's it. My losses have no theme. They are not related. They are completely random situations that could have happened to any two different women. Instead, they happened to me. Lightening struck twice. If this was the megamillion lottery, I would be beyond happy.

But it's not. So I just cope instead.

How do you view your losses? What helps you to make it through the heartache?

The Surreal Life

Everyday is a struggle. It's an act. They should give academy awards to mothers who have lost babies. Every day we pretend to be happy. Every day we pretend to be positive. Every day we pretend that we get the big picture. That we have restored faith. That we have found the secret of life...again...and again. Sometimes we pretend for other people, but once we get beyond that we are really just pretending for ourselves. We pretend that things really are getting better just so that we can get up and out the bed each morning. We pretend to care about what's going on around us.

When I go through the motions I don't really feel like I'm pretending and putting on an act, it's only when I step back and take some time to reflect that I realize that I'm not FEELING any happy or positive feelings. It's like I'm a fraud without meaning to be one. I want to feel these positive emotions, but I just don't. Instead all I really mostly feel is angry and helpless. Bitter and angry. Oh, and did I say ANGRY?

I use to look at babies and smile without thinking. It was just an innate response. Now I look at every baby that even remotely looks like my own baby would have and I think to myself, "why? why my baby? how come you aren't my baby? don't my husband deserve to be tossing you in the air and playing with you just as much as the next man?"

Tonight I just want to cry. I just want to scream. I just want to shout. The odd thing is nothing happened tonight. I went out with hubby and had a nice evening. I didn't see not one baby toight. I didn't hear not one cry. But somehow I still manage to stay up at night wishing and hoping that I had a baby to rock, nurse, and hold. It feels like there's a knife twising in my heart and my stomach.

I feel like a failure. Like I failed at something that I preapared and studied really hard for. I feel like someone else got the lifetime scholarship to the ivy league school and all the perks that come along with it that I deserve.

It takes everything in my power to take the next breath when I know someone else is enjoying a life that I should be enjoying too.

I should wear a t-shirt saying, "I got pregnant and all I got was empty jiggly mommy arms and belly fat that won't go away."

Read My Lips, "No more baby talk!"

This is a world that is just our own. A world that no one can enter or even begin to understand if they haven't crossed the threshold of living babies to dead babies. Time after time I am reminded by those who are/were closest to me how much they not only don't understand, but how much they still attach certain expectations to me. Sometimes I wonder what's preventing them from at least getting a clue when I spell things out to them. What part of "I can't take anything baby or pregnancy related" can't they understand? Do they really think I want to hear about the neighbor and her six month old baby boy? Do they really think I want to see pictures of their new baby? Do they really think I can stomach to hear about when they first brought their new baby home from the hospital? Why oh why do they think my grief, pain, and suffering has ended so soon after TWO baby losses just last year? I don't know, maybe next time I should just ask them when they expect too much of me, "do you really think I give a fuck?"