Our new Bug

One month ago today Bug was born. Time flies when you're in love.

July 28 we received a phone call that his birth mother was in labor. Two days later he was placed in my arms by a miracle from God and the selfless love of a mother. The weepy words, "I am giving you my baby because I love him more than myself," as she lay him in my arms, through what I can only imagine was the strength from God, will resonate in my mind forever. She reminded me of what it means to be a mother. It means breaking your own heart for the well-being of your child. I will never be able to make as significant of a sacrifice as she did for my children, but I will try every day to be the mother I need and want to be to justify her sacrifice.

Another miracle: he was mine the moment he was placed in my arms. Most people spend nine months with their babies during pregnancy and then revel in those special first days with them in the hospital. I worried I would miss out on important bonding moments.

It turns out when a baby is supposed to be yours whether it grew inside of you or not, you know. Through the mercy of God, I knew. All the missed moments with him disappeared and it was like I had known him forever.


I don't mean to make this into a religious post or to preach about my views, but I do believe the events leading up to receiving my child were orchestrated by a higher power. A God who knew this baby belonged in our family and allowed me to feel something in order to move me in his direction and him in mine. He found me and I found him. That in-and-of-itself is a miracle.

Boo grew in my belly, but this little guy grew in my heart.



Boo is so happy to finally have his brother.

Both expecting in July...

So...my sister and me. We're both expecting July babies!

Don't tell her I said this, but she's quite a bit bigger than me...



In other news...

Boo is a superhero.








"I neder get tired of fighting bad duys, neder!" *Never

We are expecting a baby boy July 22!!!

YAY!!!

A mother is me.

Yesterday I woke up feeling anxious to get to church. I didn't want to miss the Mother's Day songs and talks I so needed to hear. I was out of bed even before The Hubs and that is rare. I'm usually the one begging, '10 more minutes please!'

Once we got there I knew why. It wasn't just the talks and music I wanted to hear, but the feelings God needed me to have. One of my friends was speaking about moms. My first thought was how crappy it was that she had to speak on Mother's Day. It's supposed to be her day off, I thought. But how glad I am that she consented to speak because her words were inspired. I was meant to hear those words as I'm sure were many others in the congregation.

She spoke about women who struggle with having children and how all of us, even those who don't have any children are still mothers to someone. We all deserve to be celebrated, she said, because of the nurturing qualities we were born with regardless of our situation.

It wasn't her exact words that stood out to me, but the feelings and emotions they evoked inside of me. I cried the entire way through her talk not out of pity for myself, but because I know God is aware of me. I had a very strong sense of peace and self-assurance.

The Hubberton is very thoughtful and gave me a little something to give me comfort.


It reads "Eventually." Does it give you chills? Because it gave me chills when I opened it.

And the little boy who makes this mama's life more special than she ever imagined.


Happy Mother's Day!!

Boo's bedtime prayer...

"Dear Heavenly Father,

Please bless I can have my baby. I want it so bad. I don't know why it's taking so long. I really, really don't. I just want it soon please.

Amen."

Approval feels oh so good.

It's official! We have finally been approved by our agency to adopt! I am so glad that part of the process is over and we can begin the search for our baby.

It's strange though. I imagined I'd feel this giant weight off my shoulders when we received our much-anticipated approval. But I don't. Don't get me wrong, it feels great to have the interviews, home visits and seemingly never-ending paperwork out of the way, but at least I was doing something. Now I find myself viewing my profile over and over trying to imagine an expectant mother reading about us and deciding whether or not we are the ones to raise her baby.

How does someone decide such a thing? Surely a letter and pictures help, but there has to be a higher power who inspires and moves someone in the direction of another. I believe that will be how it happens for us and our birth mother-to-be. She will find us because she is supposed to, not because we come across through our letter and pictures as being perfect, but because she feels we are perfect for her child.

Writing our "message" or "letter to the birth mother" as it is commonly called was the hardest thing I have ever had to write. How does one express their deepest feelings of respect and admiration without sounding condescending or in-genuine? Or relay how much we love each other and love being parents without sounding cheesy or self-indulgent? How do I express the deepest part of myself that aches to hold a child and call it my own when it is growing in the womb of another?

Needless to say I had writers block of the century. I wanted inspiration. I wanted someone to take my hand and write it for me, perfectly narrating our lives, our values, our experiences and our feelings. This didn't happen. After much prayer, thought and consideration The Hubs and I were left to our own accord. It needed to come from us. Our most sincere thoughts about ourselves and each other and why we believe this is the path we were always meant to travel. God knows it, but we needed to know it. Really know it. And we do.

It isn't perfect or as eloquent as I'd probably like, but it's from us and that makes it special. Hopefully someone out there will think so too.

Take a peek if you're interested. And if you know someone who is considering adoption, please forward her our link. And thanks so much to everyone who reads this blog. It means more than you know to have so much love and support.

Boo, I miss you.

Looking at these pictures makes my heart ache a little. I miss Boo at this age so, so much. When I tell The Hubs he gives me a look of, "You are a very strange person, and you have my pity." But I do! And I can't help it.

I miss that chubby baby fat. Those teency little stubby toes. Those giant curls. OH, how I miss those curls! I miss those rompers! If I could dress Boo in a giant romper now and not come across as a crazy lady or worry I was causing him severe psychological damage, I would. They are my absolute favorite. I'm pretty sure I made Boo wear them until he was much too old. And I'm so happy I did. I miss those babbles and "Mama." I miss the wobbly walking and outstretched arms to be held.

It's weird that you can miss someone who isn't gone. But each stage of their lives represents such a significant part it almost seems like a different person. I ACHE for this stage. This is why people keep having kids. So we can relive these amazing moments over and over. We forget about the hard parts and remember the magical. That is what is so great about the human brain. our memories last a lifetime and when some fade and become less vivid, we have pictures. Thank goodness for pictures.

I just hope I cherished that age enough. We just never know what life has in store for us down the road.

Eat up those moments!

Coma Shmoma

Tomorrow is our home visit and I a little bit feel like my body is going to collapse at any possible moment. I'm not sure if I've gone insane or if I'm just prideful, but I am sure there is some sort of explanation as to why I decided to tackle every project within the last decade that has gone undone until now.

The Hubs is currently hard at work swapping out our bathroom faucet. He's not necessarily the handyman type, he's a lot of other really great things, but hopefully after a few choice words under his breath I'll have a faucet with two handles. Awe, I love modern day conveniences. That alone should move us to the top of the list, I'm thinking.

It's very possible I might work myself into a coma and come tomorrow will be laying flat-faced on the floor in the middle of my sparkling clean house while the lovely caseworker shows herself around my baby-proofed abode. That wouldn't be cause for concern would it? I mean, my house would be clean.

I am tired.

Cross your fingers everything goes smoothly!

p.s. Despite my numerous attempts to change his mind, Boo is sure our social worker is bringing a baby with her. Cute Boo. OK maybe I'm hoping for the same, really. A girl and a 3-year-old can hope can't we?

Brown hair, blue eyes, stripes, what's the difference?

Boo: "Daddy, I promise I'll be a good big brother, I promise! Can we please go get our baby?"
The Hubs: "We have to be patient buddy, we'll get one someday."
Boo: "I want one with stripes, OK?"
The Hubs: "Hmmm, that's to be negotiated..."

Hello March, I thought you'd never come

As I was adding Brock's adoption interview to our calendar this week, my eyes slowly scanned the rest of the week. At first it was empty, no big events or obligations until I came to Friday, March 18. There, in green glared, "Due Date!." My eyes didn't move as I felt my insides tighten and tears fill my eyes. I was taken back to a naivety about my life I no longer posses and a time my reality was simpler.

I accused the Universe of cruelty; the baby was gone, but the green 'due date' remained all these months as if no miscarriage had taken place and in some alternate, cyber universe, my baby was still coming.

Almost nine months ago The Hubs and I were sharing the news of our pregnancy with his family. It seemed so ordinary at the time. We were pregnant. We've been pregnant. Women get pregnant all the time. My father-in-law complained March seemed so far away. Now it seems almost like a dream.

After my first miscarriage I read everything I could about them. I read women sometimes feel sad at their due date. This seemed normal, but I remember thinking it wouldn't apply to me. I thought I would either be pregnant again by then, or I would have moved beyond grief.

Unfortunately the thought, "You're still not pregnant," plagues my mind everyday, but I am doing better at not letting it linger. I feel it and then move on. I still feel hopeful for the future. I am learning more and more about myself all the time and realize this is simply something I must go through and know it will continue to better me. Strangely, in some ways, I am grateful. However, guilt creeps in upon wondering why the rest of my family has to suffer. Surely Boo is not learning anything from not receiving his baby he so badly wants.

During one of my many bouts of loathsome, infertile self-pitty, The Hubs a.k.a Saint Hubs, declared I have already made him the happiest man in the world and he needs nothing more. Right then and there every doubt I had ever had about our relationship was relinquished. He is and has always been the man for me and he is the best decision I have ever made. This experience has made us closer, indeed.

So for reasons of which I am not quite certain, the green 'due date' remains. Maybe to remind myself of my ultimate goal which is to parent another child, maybe to defeat those painful feelings, or maybe I am simply a masochist, I have no idea.

I took this picture the other day, excited at the sight of budding, beautiful life. I thought it ironic how beauty is so often found amidst adversity. Becoming who you are and reaching your potential is a struggle for everyone and everything.

I've got it covered

So we are finally in the thick of the adoption process. I feel like we've waited forever to get the ball rolling since we decided to adopt and now we're in a mad dash to get everything ready so we can be approved as soon as possible.

When we are approved, our profile goes live online and birth mothers-to-be can view it and hopefully choose us! I have butterflies just thinking about it!

Part of the home study is a home visit where our agency's caseworker comes to our home to make sure it is a safe environment for a child. Ummm, I should hope so because we have one already. And he's still alive. So I think we've got it covered, right? Well...let's just say their list is a lot more extensive than mine was as a first-time mom. Boo was always so easy, so I didn't stress about locking all my cupboards and putting those annoying, I mean, super important little plastic covers over all the outlets. gasp! I know.

Not to say my house is condemnable or anything, but you know those projects you know you should get to, but they just seem really overwhelming and sorta' unimportant like organizing your craft box and figuring out what to do with the huge box of books that is taking up space in the room no one ever goes into? As the age-old adage goes, "You don't worry about these seemingly minuscule details until a professional from an adoption agency comes to your home to check every possible crevice in order to deem it an acceptable environment for children." I've heard it a million times.

The Hubs and I have already completed our intake interview where they decide whether or not a couple should continue with the process and to be fair, the couple also decides whether or not they too want to continue. We did. And today is my individual interview! I'm a little nervous, but mostly excited.

So, my peeps, wish me luck! I will let you know how it goes!

cheers!

Adoption is the word

We are adopting! Surprise! I have to apologize because I never meant to make you wait a week for the news. My excuse...laziness. And lots and lots and lots of paperwork for the adoption process.

When you have a visual of the amount of paperwork we have to fill out, add about twice that and then you'll have a realistic idea. But, I'm not complaining. I love anything that will get me closer to my baby.

Upon finding out about my uterine abnormality, (unicorn for those of you just tuning in) it was dark. Very dark. And then something happened. A thought entered my mind that has never before. Adoption. At first I pushed it out of my mind and resisted. I had never in my life wanted to adopt. And to be honest, I had before felt slightly adverse to the idea. The thought of taking away a woman's baby seemed harsh and unnatural.

When 'adoption' came into my mind again, however, I felt peace. Peace I hadn't felt in more than a year. Peace I had longed for, but seemed so far out of sight. Peace I wasn't even sure if I could ever feel again. At least not until I was holding a baby, my baby, in my arms.

I took this to The Hubs and he was on board immediately. He loved the idea of adoption. I couldn't believe it was really happening. I was excited, scared, anxious. I felt a surge of a million different emotions. I began to feel a strong connection to an unknown woman. Someone who I envisioned struggling, just in a different way than me.

For several days everything pointed to this decision. While listening to Les Miserables, the song Fantine sings about her precious daughter, while on her death bed, left me paralyzed. She pleaded forgiveness for the mistakes she had made in the past, but did not want those decisions to affect her beloved Cosette. She loved her more than anything and begged for someone else to love her like she did.

Then I realized something. There is nothing more natural than two women coming together for the sake of a baby whom they both love. I cried. I cried for myself and for a mother who will someday, selflessly give her child to me. I cried because I knew it was right.

So here we are, in the midst of one of the most exciting journeys of our lives. Our baby is coming. It may take a long time, but he or she is coming!

We have not given up hope to conceive again. We will keep trying to expand our family in whatever way we can. Adversity, however, has granted me something beautiful I may have missed. For that I am grateful.

Just call me Uni

A couple of months ago I received some news. News that could potentially turn my life upside down. And in some ways it did. I adjourned blogging about such news, wondering if it was too personal...even for me. It's not often I run into such predicaments.

I came to a conclusion, however. Openness is key. It is freedom. We spend too much of our lives building a facade of perfection. We want everyone to believe we have it all together. Our children are always well groomed, our houses spotless, our makeup always applied, our marriages flawless.

Well there may be a select few of you out there who actually are perfect. You're reading this in your immaculate home, while cooking a gourmet meal, after a long day of volunteer work at your local children's hospital. Your kids are calmly playing a board game at your feet and your husband has just finished the taxes, cleaned the bathroom, mowed the lawn, fixed the leaky faucet and is now rubbing your shoulders. If this is you, stop reading. As for the rest of us, let's be real. And I'll start...

Hello my name is Kelli and I have a unicornate uterus. Or as some like to call it, and my personal favorite, unicorn uterus. No it doesn't mean I have magical powers. If this were true I would be spouting out children by the dozens. It is quite the opposite, really. It means I have been walking around with only half of a uterus since, forever. It means getting pregnant is hard and keeping it is even harder...

Um, I already knew that. So now I have no babies AND only half a uterus. Yay! AND, it's rare! So rare, in fact, Blogger's spell check doesn't even recognize it. Unicornate, Blogger. U-ni-corn-ate.

Finding this out about myself was quite surreal. I had a child for Heaven's sake! Without even trying! Conceived five months after being married! Miracle you ask? Yes. Absolute miracle and not only because he was able to grow from an egg into a human in half the space as your average Joe.

Upon receiving this news, I felt like myself, but completely different. A uterus is a pretty important organ. For mothers and wannabe mothers, it's right up there on the list next to your heart. So what was I going to do with this information? I sobbed, of course. And sobbed some more. And then my sister called and I sobbed again. My entire existence was surrounded around being a mom. I LOVE being a mom. What was I going to do if I couldn't have more babies? That was the question. Some days it still is the question.

After a looooooooong weekend, (I found this out the day before Christmas Eve on a Friday. Doctor's don't work the week of Christmas, in case anyone was wondering), I was able to sit down with my OB and talk about the future of my unicorn. He reassured me it was still quite possible to get pregnant and carry the baby to full term. Obviously. But it's harder. Miscarriages are imminent and the statistics skyrocket for pre-term labor. However, knowing it wasn't hopeless was a big relief.

After almost a year-and-a-half of trying to conceive completely in the dark, (figuratively and literally) I ironically found solace in the verdict. I was able to accept what I had been given and move forward. It isn't a complete unknown anymore and I know now what I am dealing with.

Courage and determination which seemed lost filled my heart again and a door opened. A very unexpected door, but an exciting one.

I will share with you a little later because The Hubs has been waiting for me to watch a movie for about an hour now. He is sitting next to me and has collapsed face first onto his book. Poor The Hubs.

To be continued!!

Bad Guys

This pleases me.





There are many reasons why I love being a mom to a boy. This is one of them. At any given moment you may run into action figures, stuffed animals, even random objects tied up against their will, in probably the fiercest battle ever fought. Such is the fate of the abominable, plastic action figure.

There are two kinds of people in Boo's world: "Good Guys and Bad Guys." Captain Hook is definitely a bad guy, the aforementioned guy is a bad guy, Mommy is a bad guy when it's convenient, and sometimes Boo is a bad guy. This is my favorite game because it means he doesn't have to do anything that I ask. Makes sense right? Bad guys don't follow rules. Brilliant.

Uncle Mike has been staying with us for a few days while my parentals are out of town. Boo has never been happier. He has someone that will do ANYTHING he asks and play any game he wants.

Relentlessly Boo has been tying Mike up all day. You'd think Mike would stop whatever naughty thing he is doing that is getting him sent to "jealous" (jail) every 5 minutes. Some people just never learn!
Yes, we both like having Mike around.





cheers!

'A Broken Heart is an Open Heart'

Today I feel like I'm losing this battle. I ran outside and screamed as loud as I could as if wanting someone somewhere to hear me and to be blamed for my heartache. I fell to my knees, crying in the snow until my body shook, unable to breath or even feel my legs burning from the ice underneath them.

Why is this happening to me? Why is this happening to my family? What more am I supposed to learn from this? How much more will I have to endure? These are the questions that are spinning like a top in my mind.

Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow will be new and fresh and will bring new hope. But today, right now, I want to feel sad. I want to feel it, understand it, learn from it and revel in it until there is no other way but up.

Like Boo always says, "Tomorrow is a new day."

I like light stuff, just not food

Today was one of those really good days where everything feels light. Figuratively speaking. Not everything actually feels light. In fact, when did Boo decide to weigh as much as an 8-year-old!? I still try to carry him on my hip like I did when he was 8-months-old, but by the way Hubs looked at me today, I assume I look a tad bit strange. And so do Boo's long, 3-year-old legs dangling down my mid-thigh. Sobeit. I guess he's growing up. Sigh.

Back to my deeper thought... Life felt light for a minute. The three of us took a lazy ride on a lazy Sunday to admire houses which make us sigh and say "someday." We wound around main street all the way to the top of the hill to see the Temple. It was peaceful. Even Boo was quiet. (This is very rare. Very, very rare.)

Boo: "I want to go inside, Daddy."
Hubs:" We can't because it's not open on Sunday."
Boo: "I wish it wasn't Sunday."
Hubs: "Only adults can go into the Temple. So when you're older, you can go in."
Boo: "Old like you?
Hubs: "Yep. But you get to go to Primary.
Boo: "Teeny kids go to nursery Daddy. Not big kids like me." (He was in nursery three weeks ago, was it? Yes three weeks ago he was a "teeny kid." Now he's huge.

Hubs made dinner, well... he watched football while I prepped the steaks, made the salad and put the potatoes in the oven. But he said he'd "worry about dinner tonight, I have those steaks we need to eat." And as soon as the game was over (perfect timing, I might add) Hubs was in the kitchen putting the steaks in the oven, (sounds strange, but Hubs can really cook a steak in the oven. I mean to perfection!) claiming credit for dinner. But his smile and all around cheerful and silly demeanor today was enough for me to be content with his delightful intentions. So I gave him credit too. Sort of, while devouring the steak that needed to be eaten, and continuously spooning mounds and mounds of very fattening sour cream onto my wonderfully tasty baked potato. Well, potatoes. I had two.

Hubs and I concluded the evening with a strange, yet oddly funny t.v. show found on Netflix's month-long free subscription. Hubs signed us up with no intention of actually buying it. We just like free things.

Life is good.

When Mom, when!?

This morning:
Boo: "Mom, I miss my baby shisher."
Me: "Me too."
Boo: "Can we go to Jesus' house and visit her?"
Me: "I wish we could."
Boo: "I want her sooooooooooo much."
Me: "Me too."
Boo: "Why can't she come here?"
Me: "Because Jesus says it's not time yet."
Boo: "When, Mom, when!?"

I don't talk to Boo about wanting a baby or our trouble with getting pregnant, but he is so keenly aware of our feelings and of his own. I have never seen a little boy want to be a brother so badly. It breaks my heart. But I am also very proud of him for having the ability to think about others in such an abstract way, or at all for that matter at 3 years old. He's a special boy and I am blessed to be his mom.

Crickets

Tonight, my room is filled with the music of hundreds of crickets, panic-stricken to find a mate before summer draws to an end. The air feels cooler and the days a little shorter, each hinting that the end of summer is closing in. It's always sad to see summer go, even with the excitement of the new season approaching. The lazy days at the pool, afternoons on the grass with melting popsicles in hand, barbecues and camping trips. They all will soon be a thing of the past.

Change is hard for me and I always seem to get the summertime blues as August fades. My sister-in-law is moving away to college for the first time, along with my brother-in-law, leaving their parents with heavy hearts and nostalgic feelings. These events are inevitable and commonplace at the end of summer for many families, but have left me with all sorts of different emotion and thoughtfulness. Each stage of our lives is exciting and heartbreaking at times. Starting a family, hopeful, excited and at times terrified. We welcome beautiful, new babies into our home, then down the road say goodbye as they embark on their own adventures.

With the end of summer, my one-year mark of trying to conceive is approaching. Twelve months ago, this September we naively began to try for a baby. One year later, I am still at square one. No baby and a failed pregnancy. This is a lonely and frustrating feeling. I visualize my baby, and feel homesick for it. A literal homesickness that I have felt for my own family in the past. I had a moment today of self-pity, wondering why so many people around me are being blessed with multiple children and I am left waiting and desperately wanting.

My Father-in-law thoughtfully said to me, "Make sure you enjoy every day" hinting that time goes by fast and I only have a little while with my baby. Remembering his words, I lay down with my Boo tonight and breathed him in; all his goodness and wonderfulness. My heart became full again. I told him I loved him and with his eyes closed he nuzzled into his pillow and responded with his tiny, sleepy voice, "Yuv you too, Mommy." Those words and his tiny body in my arms made me feel so grateful for the love that I have, even if I do have so much more love to give.

A 2-year-old's Intuition

We have been thinking about getting a puppy the last little while to cure my baby hunger and give Boo a little buddy. I've been feeling bad that a little friend isn't on the way for him yet. We've talked to Boo about it a little, but decided to hold off for awhile and haven't brought it up recently. But apparently it is still vivid in Boo's mind.

Today while eating lunch he became subdued and pensive. I asked him if anything was wrong and he said, "Mommy, I want a dog......and you want a baby." It's almost like he understood that the two were related somehow. I got a little choked up by his sincere and intuitive comment. And now a puppy is very much back on the radar.

The Harder the Road the Sweeter the Reward

It's hard to know if it's OK to feel sad after a miscarriage. What is it that you really lost? Mothers give birth to still-born babies after months and months of bonding, sacrificing, caring and loving. Some mothers lose their precious babies after meeting them, serving them and loving them more than she ever thought it possible to love another. So a couple days after my own miscarriage of my six week pregnancy, I continued to ask myself, what did I lose, do I deserve to be sad and how much time am I allotted to feel sadness?

After 10 months of trying to conceive, I grew tired of those dreaded little blue lines peering up at me. The last month before I conceived I vowed not to take another test until I was 100 percent positive I was pregnant, either by not having my period for way too long or clad with a baby bump. There would be no more blue-lined pregnancy tests. At 28 days I began to get impatient. Each day seemed like an eternity and the next one longer. I had a feeling I was pregnant, but after so many let-downs, I couldn't let myself hope for too much. By day 34 I decided to by-pass another possible blue line and see my doctor for a blood test. After the nurse took my blood, I prayed and prayed while waiting. If I wasn't pregnant, I didn't know what I'd do, I thought. But I still didn't allow myself very much optimism. When she came out, the words coming out of her mouth seemed to me in slow motion, "You are pregnant, Kelli." I had to ask her again to make sure I had heard correctly and wasn't hallucinating. Tears began to well up and right then I had everything I wanted. On the way home, I had to pull over and cry a little and ask myself, "How is it that anyone can have everything they want?"

After waiting 10 months (I know there are woman who wait much longer than that to get pregnant, but for me, it seemed like an eternity) pregnancy was much more of a miraculous happening. It is the biggest miracle and blessing of all. Never would I complain about feeling sick or tired or fat. I was excited for these infamous events. Everything about pregnancy excited me and I found myself daydreaming, not only about my beautiful baby to-be, but of the joyous experiences to prelude it. Pregnancy. After a few moments of forgetting, butterflies entered my stomach upon remembering the baby in my belly. No longer would I have to feel a tinge of jealousy at the sight of a beautiful pregnant woman with her adorable round belly. No longer would I have to be angry when a pregnant woman complained about being fat. I had my pregnancy. I had my growing baby. Giving things up became the opposite of a nuisance, as it felt like in my previous pregnancy with my Grey, instead it became a right. In fact, I couldn't wait to give these things up in the name of pregnancy.

I began to feel blessed that it took me a little longer to get pregnant, because indeed the harder the road, the sweeter the reward. I began to daydream my little Boo proudly cuddling and playing with his new "shisher" as he hoped it would be. I had noticed his intrigue with my friends who are pregnant, as he touched their protruding bellies with wonderment. I couldn't help but be excited about putting his little hand on my rounded belly telling him there was a new brother or sister growing in Mommy's belly. It was my turn! Boo's turn!

When I began to feel cramping two days ago, I told myself cramping is normal, everyone has it. I called the doctor to make sure and he put my mind at ease. When the cramping became a little more intense, I stayed optimistic as there was no blood. Throughout the night I tossed and turned and couldn't seem to find a comfortable position as the cramping had worsened. The next morning I was in tears. I felt like I was in labor without the two or three minute breaks between contractions. I told my mom that I was able to give birth naturally without crying or even screaming because I was working for a good thing. The pain is good and necessary. But this pain wasn't good, therefore, unbearable.

I again called my doctor who wasn't in the office as it was July 24. My mom gave me some pain medication and I hunched over my knees to find a comfortable position. The pain immediately went away completely. Since my pain was completely gone I decided to go to my sister's house after all for a 24 of July breakfast. When I got home a few hours later, I went to the bathroom and began screaming. I was bleeding. The tiny thing inside me that I was trying so hard to protect was gone. All the hope and excitement I had for the future was gone. I went to the emergency room and three hours later, I wasn't pregnant anymore.

After crying and sleeping and crying some more I tried to gather my thoughts about how I am supposed to feel. I never held my baby in my arms. I never kissed it and it really could never even hear my voice when I spoke to it. (Yes I spoke to my 6-week embryo :) Miscarriages aren't rare. Many women go through this. So why do I have the right to be sad? How do others react or cope and does that reflect how I am, therefore, supposed to cope? I feel sad, hopeless, angry, confused, denied, guilty, lonely and feel somewhat of a failure to my son and husband. I know my miscarriage wasn't my fault, however, it's hard not to have these feelings. I was pretty excited about my little "lentil" (the size comparison to my embryo in Baby Center) and realized I am not grieving the loss of a child exactly, but the loss of my pregnancy and everthing attached to it. I lost the opportunity to love and bond with something and to protect it. To sacrifice and serve. I lost the excitement, the anticipation and the joy and wonderment that pregnancy is. I lost the future. For this it is OK to be sad however long it takes to heal. I lost something real and something important and my feelings don't have to reflect anyone else's.

The loss of a pregnancy sounds to some like an easy fix, "just try again." But it's not that simple. We will of course try again, but it's a long road, and it will be a lot scarier the next time around.

The silver lining, I have told myself, is that having endured this, I am able to be much more compassionate to other women who have had miscarriages. I understand what it is and that it is hard and scary and it sucks. And we deserve to grieve and be sad. I was one of those who thought, "You can always try again," but that won't cross my mind again. "I am so sorry," is all that needs to be said and felt.

I know I will be OK and hope to have more children and I look forward to many more healthy pregnancies and babies in the future. What a miracle it is.