I'm writing this post at 11:00pm. My brain is going everywhere, so I can guarantee that this won't have the greatest flow. There pretty much won't be any transitions. This is just what my brain looks like during one of my downward depression cycles. It may not even make any sense to you, but I need to get this off my mind.I was looking through my old blog posts when I came across this
HA! Totally being over hating pregnant women. Now I don't think I will ever be over it. Not only am I jealous of their bumps and healthy babies, I am also jealous of their innocence. The thoughts of "oh, it can't happen to me! I'm doing everything right" or "I'm past 12 weeks! This baby is for sure going to live" and the "oh! We've reached the age of viability! We're totally good now." The funny thing is though, is that it's not true. I used to believe the same thing. I was going to church, reading my scriptures, paying my tithing, attending the temple, being active in my church callings. I was exercising and eating healthy, staying away from soft cheeses and deli meats. I ate sushi once, but it was cooked so I figured that would be okay. I did everything right, and my baby still died. We reached twelve weeks, and we announced our pregnancy. 24 weeks came along, and we believed our baby girl was going to live no matter what. The week before her due date, we had everything set up for her impending arrival. Boxes and boxes of diapers and wipes- a pack'n'play so she could sleep right next to my side of the bed- blankets, cute pacifiers, adorable hand made clothes- nursing bras and udder butter, cute nursing tops. The car seat was installed in the middle of the back seat, and the stroller was stored in the trunk. Everything was ready and just a few days later, she was gone. GONE. Just like that. No warning. Everything had been perfect. We had no reason to believe she wouldn't survive. We were at the END. Oh the innocence. I will never have that back. I will forever be fearful of my future babies dying right at the end. I won't be able to calm down till they're screaming in my arms. (This part gets a little TMI, proceed with caution)Ha, something I wish more people knew- you know how a mothers body prepares for the baby, and her breasts grow and fill with milk to sustain the child's life? Yeah, well, when your child dies your body is stupid and doesn't quite realize there isn't anyone to feed. There isn't an "off" switch for lactation, or postpartum hair loss, or the beautiful stretch marks that now cover you're stomach and breasts. You have to deal with everything, but without the living proof of why you're suffering. You try everything you can to stop it, but it still comes. Days after you deliver your baby, your breasts fill and ache because they're so engorged, but you dare not touch them because you fear of prolonging lactation. You drink nasty herbal teas that are supposed to stop it. You take allergy medicines to suppress it. You bind your chest as tight as you can and pray that it will stop. And eventually, it slows down. And if your lucky, it stops within a few weeks (I'm a freaking cow, I still haven't stopped completely even after six months of doing everything I can to stop it). And once you're lucky and have stopped lactating, you think to yourself "okay, I've got this." And then you look in the mirror and see the stretch marks. You see every scar that your baby placed on your body and it breaks your heart, because your child isn't there. You have no living proof who shows that you earned each and every one of those tiger stripes. You turn away from the mirror and head to the shower. As you're shampooing your curls, you pull handfuls and handfuls of loose hairs from your head. More reminders of what once was and what should have been. After you've showered you go to bed. It's a comfortable 68 degrees in your bedroom, and you still need a fan blowing on your body because the hot flashes are so intense. You wake up in a pool of your own sweat, even after stripping off all unnecessary clothing and turning the fan on high. The torture never seems to end. What was supposed to be Lilly's nursery is right next to our bedroom. I've got most of her things put away, but not everything fits into the closet. We've since converted the room into a sewing/storage room. Why pay for a storage unit when you've got an empty bedroom? Ugh... Life just really sucks right now... If only it would get better.Another thing that I'm having problems with? Why me. Why my baby. Why does she get a baby, and I don't? She's a stoner, is in an abusive relationship, doesn't love the father, already has six kids, can't afford the child, is living off of welfare, is an undeserving mother, only tried to conceive for two months, is a teenager, had a one night stand, etc. It just doesn't make any sense. We wanted our child. We prayed for her. I underwent multiple fertility tests. We payed for extra ultrasounds just to see her every chance we got. We moved into a two bedroom apartment just for her. We were both working and saving up so I could stay home with her once she was born. I took a semester off of school so I wouldn't have to stress about finals the month after she was born. We were doing everything right, and making adjustments so our lives would be perfect once she joined us. It's just not fair :( that's pretty much the biggest thing that I've learned in the past six months, that life is not fair... At least I have an amazing husband and great dogs 
HA! Totally being over hating pregnant women. Now I don't think I will ever be over it. Not only am I jealous of their bumps and healthy babies, I am also jealous of their innocence. The thoughts of "oh, it can't happen to me! I'm doing everything right" or "I'm past 12 weeks! This baby is for sure going to live" and the "oh! We've reached the age of viability! We're totally good now." The funny thing is though, is that it's not true. I used to believe the same thing. I was going to church, reading my scriptures, paying my tithing, attending the temple, being active in my church callings. I was exercising and eating healthy, staying away from soft cheeses and deli meats. I ate sushi once, but it was cooked so I figured that would be okay. I did everything right, and my baby still died. We reached twelve weeks, and we announced our pregnancy. 24 weeks came along, and we believed our baby girl was going to live no matter what. The week before her due date, we had everything set up for her impending arrival. Boxes and boxes of diapers and wipes- a pack'n'play so she could sleep right next to my side of the bed- blankets, cute pacifiers, adorable hand made clothes- nursing bras and udder butter, cute nursing tops. The car seat was installed in the middle of the back seat, and the stroller was stored in the trunk. Everything was ready and just a few days later, she was gone. GONE. Just like that. No warning. Everything had been perfect. We had no reason to believe she wouldn't survive. We were at the END. Oh the innocence. I will never have that back. I will forever be fearful of my future babies dying right at the end. I won't be able to calm down till they're screaming in my arms. (This part gets a little TMI, proceed with caution)Ha, something I wish more people knew- you know how a mothers body prepares for the baby, and her breasts grow and fill with milk to sustain the child's life? Yeah, well, when your child dies your body is stupid and doesn't quite realize there isn't anyone to feed. There isn't an "off" switch for lactation, or postpartum hair loss, or the beautiful stretch marks that now cover you're stomach and breasts. You have to deal with everything, but without the living proof of why you're suffering. You try everything you can to stop it, but it still comes. Days after you deliver your baby, your breasts fill and ache because they're so engorged, but you dare not touch them because you fear of prolonging lactation. You drink nasty herbal teas that are supposed to stop it. You take allergy medicines to suppress it. You bind your chest as tight as you can and pray that it will stop. And eventually, it slows down. And if your lucky, it stops within a few weeks (I'm a freaking cow, I still haven't stopped completely even after six months of doing everything I can to stop it). And once you're lucky and have stopped lactating, you think to yourself "okay, I've got this." And then you look in the mirror and see the stretch marks. You see every scar that your baby placed on your body and it breaks your heart, because your child isn't there. You have no living proof who shows that you earned each and every one of those tiger stripes. You turn away from the mirror and head to the shower. As you're shampooing your curls, you pull handfuls and handfuls of loose hairs from your head. More reminders of what once was and what should have been. After you've showered you go to bed. It's a comfortable 68 degrees in your bedroom, and you still need a fan blowing on your body because the hot flashes are so intense. You wake up in a pool of your own sweat, even after stripping off all unnecessary clothing and turning the fan on high. The torture never seems to end. What was supposed to be Lilly's nursery is right next to our bedroom. I've got most of her things put away, but not everything fits into the closet. We've since converted the room into a sewing/storage room. Why pay for a storage unit when you've got an empty bedroom? Ugh... Life just really sucks right now... If only it would get better.Another thing that I'm having problems with? Why me. Why my baby. Why does she get a baby, and I don't? She's a stoner, is in an abusive relationship, doesn't love the father, already has six kids, can't afford the child, is living off of welfare, is an undeserving mother, only tried to conceive for two months, is a teenager, had a one night stand, etc. It just doesn't make any sense. We wanted our child. We prayed for her. I underwent multiple fertility tests. We payed for extra ultrasounds just to see her every chance we got. We moved into a two bedroom apartment just for her. We were both working and saving up so I could stay home with her once she was born. I took a semester off of school so I wouldn't have to stress about finals the month after she was born. We were doing everything right, and making adjustments so our lives would be perfect once she joined us. It's just not fair :( that's pretty much the biggest thing that I've learned in the past six months, that life is not fair... At least I have an amazing husband and great dogs
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