Life.

Any woman who has chosen life willingly, only to lose it, faces the daily realization of what could have been. I'm sure at some point, days stretch into weeks then months, maybe years where the thought doesn't pop up, but it certainly seems to be very present now.
I'm a realist by nature, so I can put in perspective how far along I was. I wasn't feeling movement. Shit, what was there probably couldn't even be classified as human based on viability. But the hope, and the thought of what could be- what would have been, is a harsh reality. One that I thought would pass easily, however being the realist I am, I should know that these emotions I feel should be felt.
Everyone tells me, it just wasn't meant to be. But when you try for so long, only to get that BFP, and then lose it, it feels like a cosmic mindfuck. I know the stats, I know my chances of concieving again, I know how blessed I am for the other 2 children I have already brought forth in this world. And again, its not like I felt movement. I didn't lose a child I carried for months, only to feel pass. I can comprehend all of that.

When I was getting my blood drawn, mid-miscarriage, the nurse asked me how I was handling it all. I related everything above, including my perception of where I was in the pregnancy and how I know it was early and I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up and all. How blessed I am for my other kids. And she went on to tell me how she couldn't have kids. How she tried and tried and now in her late twenties she just resorted to the fact she won't be a mother. And somehow that is supposed to soothe me. Reminding myself again and again how blessed I am to be able to even fulfill the American Dream of 2.5 kids and a dog with a home. Growing my family should be the last thing I am concerned about when some women can't even have kids...
And yet, I still find myself sobbing uncontrollably in the bathroom twice a week. I drive my kids to school and then cry the whole way home and then the whole way to work. A co-worker congratulates me, because I've boastfully announced to everyone the pregnancy, yet shamefully kept the miscarriage hidden, thus leading to more tears.
I don't know what is going to make me snap out of it. I'm going to add some yoga, do a cleanse and create some health in my life. I know I'm bordering a deep chasm of depression. The reality that I *have* to function for my family is what keeps me from jumping into it (though I have a feeling I'm really hanging over the chasm while depression licks my heels). And I'm going to write. Again and again I come back to writing in times when therapy is probably a better option. I just need to speak and say my piece. Maybe it will provide some closure during this time.

I guess I will see what becomes of me.