Fake it till ya make it

Virtually no spotting yesterday.

Went for my 2nd blood draw again this morning. Won't have the results until tomorrow.

Had a little spotting this morning, but not much, and no cramping or pain.

This sucks.

I cannot say that enough.

I remember when I was a teenager, my great aunt telling of a miscarriage she had. I don't remember how far along she was. Not terribly important to the story anyway.

What I remember is that she didn't pass everything. Hardly anything, in fact. But they made her wait to see if her body would pass it naturally. Over a week before they finally did a D&C.

And I remember thinking how awful that must be, how horrifying to be walking around knowing your dead baby was still inside you. How absolutely heartbreakingly hard that must have been.

Yeah. It is.

I broke down last night. I just want it to be over. If it's gonna be over, just be over. But walking around, going to work, going thru the motions of living a normal day, all the while knowing that the tiny life inside me has extinguished, but is still there... it's mental & emotional torture.

Why can't it just be over?

But it can't be. Not yet. Tomorrow I will call for my results. And they will tell me it's below a "5". And then maybe we can start moving on.

Moving on. From what?

It's a boy, you know.

I don't know how I know, but I do. I can see him, clear as day.

My blond haired, blue eyed little boy... waiting for me in Heaven.

My heart breaks knowing I will never see him run thru our yard, play with the dogs, rough-house and wrestle and be all boy.

Tears falling again.

I wish I could curl up into a ball, and stay catatonic at home.

But it doesn't work that way.

Life goes on around me, and I am an unwilling participant. Work, and chores, and child care and church... it doesn't stop because your heart is breaking.

And medically speaking, it's "not that bad", so there's no allowance for time off work, no recognition of what your body is going thru, let alone your heart.

There's a little girl to be taken care of, who knows that Mommy's tummy still doesn't feel well, but nothing more.

There are dogs & cats & chickens to feed, dishes & laundry to do, work to be done, life to be lived.

And maybe that's good. Maybe it's a "fake it till ya make it" sort of thing.

Must be. Because I'm not making it right now, but I'm faking it well enough to fool most of the people around me.