I've been trying to find a beautiful, poetic way to write about this but I can't. I had a miscarriage earlier this summer. After trying for 11 cycles, I finally got those two lines I've been looking for. Unfortunately, my joy was short lived. Something didn't feel right and after getting a blood test at my midwives' office, I got the bad news. "Your levels are that of a woman who is barely pregnant or no longer pregnant. I'm so sorry." And literally minutes after I hung up, the cramps started picking up in intensity. And the blood. It's like my body was waiting for the official word.
This isn't a "bad things happen & we come through it" post. I'm not through it. I'm still in the thick of it. I know I will come through it, but the past several weeks have been peaks and valleys. I'm still struggling. I will get through it. But then I'll stumble backwards into the black pit where I feel like I'm falling and no one can catch me. And I will cry and yell and hate every pregnant woman I see because it's supposed to be me. And then I will be okay. Lather, rinse, repeat.