Like I mentioned in my last post, I've been peeing on a lot of sticks lately. Lots of sticks. Like seven in a three day span lot of sticks. My boobs were hurting--actually they were killing me, they hurt so badly. My boobs don't lie (insert Shakira song here). They only hurt when I'm pregnant. I just couldn't figure out why all of these HPT's were turning out negative and since I hadn't had a period since July, there was really no way that I could tell if I was testing too early. But my boobs hurt, so who cares, I was probably pregnant.
My period started on Sunday and it scared the hell out of me. That miscarriage shook me up so much, that the sight of any blood--even from my period--made my heart stop. I'm scared of my own uterus, apparently. So my period started, and I cried and sobbed for a couple of hours. I also had that horrible panic that I wasn't pregnant and that I had to be pregnant and I must be pregnant RIGHT NOW! And then, of course, I diagnosed myself as being completely nuts because I was having symptoms of a non-existent pregnancy. Good times.
But here's Logical Laura:
1.) My boobs probably really did hurt. They've never hurt when I wasn't pregnant, but I've also never had a miscarriage at 12 weeks. Who knows what my hormones were doing. They probably hurt after Nate was born, too, but I was more concerned with stopping my milk supply. (By the way, what a cruel thing that is, huh?)
2.) Yeah, my doctor told us that we could start right away, but honestly, the idea of getting pregnant before at least one period creeped me out a little. At least now we can have a timeframe for things.
3.) Here's someting interesting that I just thought of: My first period came 4 weeks and 3 days after Nate was born. This period came 4 weeks and 3 days after the D & C. Weird.
I've been thinking a lot about things. I had this empty, cold feeling inside that wasn't there before. As I've grieved for my son, there was still a little something in me. I picture it in my head as a candle--a little hope candle. After the miscarriage, the candle went out. That's a very scary feeling. Being hopeless.
I prayed so hard for a pregnancy. When we were in Europe, I obsessively hunted down any church and cathedral that I could find, shoved my Euros in the little tin boxes and lit candles. One for Nate, one for his brother or sister. At St. Peter's in Rome, I went into the heavily guilded and incensed room that was especially for prayer and offered up the best plea I could think of. I mean, this was St. Peter's, it was like the Big Red Phone to God. This one had to count. Hm. Maybe He's saving it for later. I hope so.
So, we're going to trudge forward. I'm more terrified than ever. This reproduction thing is turning out to be a little more difficult than I expected. But I can feel my little candle returning.