Grace asked for a little sister again last night. She asks for one often. Sometimes it’s a brother… Sometimes a sister. Yesterday she talked of “sisters”. It’s clear that our gal has entered an age, in just the past few weeks, where she’s very much aware of the existence of siblings and that she doesn’t have one. Just writing this breaks my already broken heart because I would give anything for her to have one. I would give anything to give that to her.
Before the miscarriage, we told Grace that mama had a baby growing in her belly. After we lost our little peanut, Grace didn’t mention the baby anymore. It’s like she forgot and we were more than ok with that. Only she didn’t forget. We did end up having to tell her that our baby went to heaven to be with Grandpa Rudy and she seemed to accept that answer.
She has since started asking questions again.
Had I not miscarried, I would be in my 3rd trimester right now, due in December. We would be putting the finishing touches on our little ones nursery and preparing Gracie to be a big sister. My days would be filled with baby kicks and my nights would consists of restless sleep. And as much as I wish this were the case – it just isn’t.
I try not to let my mind go there, to that place, because when I do, it’s like I fall into a dark hole and it’s hard to climb back out. It’s hard to be a good mom and wife when I let myself go there, so I fight off those feelings. Unfortunately, some weeks, like this week, I lose that fight and all I’m left with is an empty womb and a heavy heart.
I know why this week has been tough. There are lots of reasons. Baby announcements are always a trigger and there’s been 3 just this week alone. It’s a complex feeling being joyful for a friend in finding out that they are pregnant, while also crushed at the same time. It’s fall and while I love this season, I know I would have loved it even more if I were looking down at a big baby belly every day. My best friend just gave birth to her beautiful son and our little ones would have been so close in age just like our daughters are. I'm also turning 33 years old this month and while I know that many would consider 33 young, I just feel so old and tired these days.
I’ve tried everything. Acupuncture, 16 months of appointments and counting. I’ve had all the blood tests done and take all the meds that have come along with those crappy results. I’ve meditated. I’ve prayed endlessly. I’ve done breathing exercises. I’ve changed my diet and eaten all of the “fertility foods” I’ve read of and still, 6 IUI’s in 11 months and nothing. All the while, we’re running out of tries and I’m running out of hope.
I started working out a month ago and I’m going at it pretty hard. I obviously have a lot of tension to work out, all the while knowing wholeheartedly that this is my last hope. Weight loss, that is. If this doesn’t work, I’m out of ideas. I’ve joined a gym and go several times a week, which was the scariest thing to do at first but it seems to be working and I’m actually losing weight… So that’s good. For now, TTC is on hold until I reach my weight loss goal, so I’m hoping that if I keep losing at this rate, we can give it another go come December.
Anyway, that’s where we are in the
wonderful world of TTC baby #2. I’ve been asked by some of you if my
silence on this subject was because I was pregnant. I wish it was, now you all
know I’m not. My heart still tells me that my time will come and I honestly
feel like exercise is something I should have focused on much earlier in this
process, so I’m hopeful given the recent changes I’ve made. In any case, we’re
moving forward and pressing on.
Thanks for listening.
Thanks for listening.