Things I'd like to say to people who will probably never read this anyway:

Telling us that we can try again IS NOT COMFORTING.

Telling us that we’re still young IS NOT COMFORTING.

Saying “Oh this was just a practice run!” IS INCONSIDERATE AND RUDE.

It is best to say “I’m so sorry” and be a listening ear or crying shoulder. Really, there is nothing else you can do.* Don’t tell me I can try again, or “next time give you should try giving up caffeine” (I did that, jerk), or “Such-and-such is a known cause for miscarriage!” Those are all JERKY THINGS TO SAY and give no comfort; they only make me wish I could punch you or scream “shut up!” at the top of my lungs.

Just say “I’m so sorry” and stop talking before your foot finds its way into your mouth.

*Although, I will say, I got a couple of really thoughtful notes and cards from friends, and one very dear friend who lives out of state sent us a Dean & Delucca chicken pot pie, which was very sweet and thoughtful…Plus it arrived on one of those bad days, and it was so wonderful to not have to cook that night.

Margaritaville

 

This is probably stupid…but when I had a BeautiControl spa party back on July 20 (I remember because it was the last thing I did that I considered birthday celebration related, haha) I got the BC Margarita Party Set – foot scrub, foot crème, body lotion and lip balm, all of which smells like a delicious margarita. Seriously, if I didn’t know any better I would stick the end of the tubes in my mouth and EAT THIS STUFF because it smells so wonderful.

 

I think I will always associate that smell with our first anniversary. I remember getting ready for dinner at a winery with a little restaurant inside and going into the bathroom in our hotel room and slathering myself in the lotion before I put on my pretty summer party dress, and using the lip balm before and after we ate.

 

It will always remind me of how our table was in the perfect place on the deck, far enough away from the speakers that the live band didn’t make us want to die…how the temperature was PERFECT and there was a nice breeze… It will remind me of the chicken cob sandwich I ate, the LandShark beer my husband drank, how effortlessly handsome he is and how he looked at me that evening…It will remind me of how I breathlessly giggled as I turned down the wine at the winery, knowing I was probably pregnant (my boobs were sore and starting to get big and I just had “that feeling”)… It was such a great evening overall, made all the more magical by the secret knowledge that something was happening in my body.

 

Yeah…I would definitely go back to that, as long as I didn’t know what would happen a few short weeks later.

 

A few things:

 

1.       Well, the bill I got the other day may be taken care of. A mistake on the claim that the physician group submitted is to blame. I’m waiting for them to fix it. Maybe I won’t have to pay after all.

 

2.       Now, I’m going to just put this out there, knowing full well that it’s been called one of the worst shows on television and knowing that sometimes people who watch it are perceived as dumb, but our little family regularly watches America’s Funniest Home Videos. In fact, we watch it just about every Sunday night. I would even go so far as to say that it’s one of my favorite shows because, really, it’s nice to be able to laugh at other people’s stupidity, or mishaps, or cute kids, or hilarious things that pets do, and for the hour that I’m watching AFV, I’m not stressing out or thinking about sad things and whatnot.

So anyway. One of my favorite things in the world will now always be tied to one of my darkest days. On August 16^th, after I forced myself to eat the cold burger and melty milkshake, I trudged from the bed into the living room and plopped down on the couch with my husband and we watched America’s Funniest Home Videos. This does not seem like such a bad thing except that if you’ve ever watched an episode of AFV, you know it’s to the top with videos of babies doing cute or funny things and, well, perhaps four hours after you’ve found out that you’re losing your baby, videos of cute and funny babies is not something you should watch.

I was thinking of this last night as I watched AFV from the kitchen as I was making taco soup and a video of a toddler girl pressing her face against a glass window played. Even four months later, it makes me a little sad.  

 

3.       I hosted a small Scentsy party Friday evening, and my friends were sort of perplexed as to why all of the soda in the fridge was caffeine-free and why I make decaf tea and don’t drink coffee unless it’s decaf. I felt I had no choice (I’m a terrible liar anyway) but to explain that I’d given it up last May in order to prepare for having a baby. The Scentsy rep, who I have only known a short time but already adore, and my Granny, didn’t know about my miscarriage and started talking about how caffeine consumption can lead to miscarriages.

Now, see, I can type miscarriage on this blog, and email the word…for some idiodic reason I can’t bear to say it aloud and when I hear it, it sort of makes me cringe a little on the inside. So, to hear these two ladies throwing it out there so freely was a tad too much for me. I noticed that I had stopped making eye contact and fell silent. It was like I couldn’t talk even if I’d wanted to. And what would I say? “Oh, well, I gave up caffeine and still miscarried.” No…I don’t know.

I thought I was doing everything right – exercising, eating healthy, giving up caffeine and taking prenatal vitamins and an iron supplement…and it still happened to me.

 

4.       I feel like I’m in a very thick fog. Okay, some days are stellar and others are crap. Some days I feel like I’m over it and don’t think about it at all. But there are days, weeks, when I can’t help but go there, to my sad place, and sit down and get comfortable. It’s up and down, round and round, and I try to do it quietly so that no one knows or is bothered or made uncomfortable by my sadness because, really, no one wants to be around a sad person. It’s just no fun. I feel forgotten, lost, unloved, and alone. I know I’m none of those things, but no one remembers (or seems to remember) what happened but me.