Her day...

She was due today. "She"...that's all I can bring myself to call her. The twins are referred to as...well..."the twins", and the early miscarriage last Sept is referred to as the "hurricane baby" since I miscarried during Hurricane Rita. She was lovingly called "the chicken"...until we found out she was a girl when they did the testing.

She doesn't have a name. To name her would open up a wound I couldn't face. I know naming is something that helps some people cope with the loss. I'm not one of those people. Naming her makes it too real. Naming her means I'd have to admit how much I still hurt.

So what am I supposed to do today? Pretend like I don't want to throw up everytime I inadvertently see the date? I came up with the short list of things that seem appropriate: cry, scream, throw things, drink until I fall asleep, run until i throw up...but I did all of that when I found out we lost her...what am I supposed to do now?

Am I supposed to be "adjusted" by now? Because I'm not. This is the first real due date I've had to suffer through. The due date last month of hurricane baby was just fleeting sadness...there wasn't ever enough time to get attached to that one. The due date for the twins would have been really rough...but Oct 31...that morning was when I found out I was pregnant with her. I was supposed to mourn that day, to feel the way I do today...but instead I found out she was there. What a miracle right? Surely a sign from God that my sadness was over, that I had carried my burden far enough, and that my reward was finally there.

But then more sadness...far worse than before. Because of that word..."she"...

Patrick and I had a weird little discussion on the way home last night. He knows that my anxiety has been growing, so he took me to go see Pirates of the Carribbean last night at the Movie Tavern (beer + real food + movie = happiness). On the way home, he said it was a full moon. I couldn't help but make a stupid drunk comment
"Great, then I probably would have been in labor right now."
We talked for a little and I did the usual
"I could do this, I could keep going, if I knew that it actually would happen for us sometime. But the constant fear that this is never going to work, that no matter how many times I get pregnant, this may never work...that's what I can't deal with."
To which he said
"You know why we keep going....I know you know...so just say it. Why do we keep doing this? It starts with an H."
I said "hell" of course to be a shit,
but he said "hope"...
I'm just not in the mood to hope today though...I just need to let myself be, and get through the day however I can....
I'll hope again tomorrow...