en·joy –verb (used with object) 1. to experience with joy; take pleasure in:

I am trying so hard to enjoy this pregnancy. I want to keep every moment in my memory bank to treasure. I just want to sit back and relax and bask in the glow of early pregnancy. The glow you are in before the morning sickness hits you like a ton of bricks and before you weigh 10,000 pounds.

But I can't. I have faced the pain of miscarriage and, while I feel like I've dealt well with it emotionally, part of me can not be that happy, carefree pregnant woman.

I already deeply love this child. I have already bonded with it, but I feel like I am holding a part of myself back because I am so scared of losing my baby again.

I'm already a week farther than I was last time and I've had no spotting even though it is a possible side effect of doing the progesterone suppositories. My breath still catches every time I go to the bathroom, afraid of what the TP will reveal. But I am so happy to report it is always a nice stark white.

I know I won't spend my whole pregnancy this way, but I want to enjoy every moment, not just the end when I'm "safe". I don't know when it will get better, but I am believing I will be able to breathe soon.

Roller Coaster Time Again!!

So I've had my fourth failed cycle since I lost Lucas, but it finally brought forth a diagnosis.


My miscarriage in conjunction with my charts (the low temps, so-so thermal shifts and short LPs) points to a low progesterone issue. I'm not happy to know there is something wrong with me (okay, we all knew there is more than one thing wrong with me ;) ), but I am thrilled to know that there is action being taken.

I felt helpless when I laid on the couch bleeding, losing my son. I knew I was losing him, but I couldn't do anything to stop it. I sobbed uncontrollably and began to hate myself for failing so miserably.

I know this may not be the complete answer. I know there will be some nerve-wracking times to come. I know this may not be the magical solution, but it's hope. It's a step in the right direction and it's giving me a reason to try to trust my body again.

So with a renewed hope, I took 50mg of Clomid on cycle days 3 - 7 and am now feeling the severe tell-tale ovulation pains. And when I say pain I mean PAIN. Holy cow I feel like my right ovary is going to pop out of my body. And that left one is twinging as well. Don't care, just give me a baby for it. :-D

The numbers are in

When I lost Lucas, I didn't even think to ask the doctor what my beta number was. I was in too much pain to think of anything lucid.

I finally got around to getting a copy of my bloodwork and saw the number:

6.2

A 5.5 beta is considered positive, but that low of a beta combined with the heavy bleeding was just a definite miscarriage.

But knowing the number gives me some sense of peace, some sense of closure.

I feel better seeing the number because it is further physical proof that Lucas was real. I've known it all along, but now I have definitive medical proof to show Husband when he becomes belligerent.

Silence is not always golden

My life, it has been a little insane lately.

I love the holiday season, but it makes for a crazy time.

The benefit is I was able to keep my mind off of my cycle, I have been able to keep from spending every single day crying over Lucas (I have found that my down time, my quiet time is when I miss him most) and it's been rewarding:

1. My first cycle after my miscarriage I ovulated, before I even had my first AF after my miscarriage. I had read conflicting reports as to whether I would or not.

2. I ovulated on schedule. Again, I had read conflicting reports on this, some stating I may ovulate as many as two weeks later than normal.

3. I had a GREAT ovulation. I think it is due to the new supplements I was taking this cycle, but regardless, I was thrilled about that.

4. My luteal phase was better than ever. They had previously met the bare minimum to be acceptable, but this time around it was a very resepctable 13 day LP.

So now I am finishing up my first post - miscarriage AF. I am officially clear to start TTC again (shhh don't tell anyone, but I never really stopped). I hope and pray that encouraging words I've heard from women who have been through this loss before are true. I hope my body is at it's best now that it's been pregnant once and it will "remember" what it is supposed to do.

I don't mean this to say I am just moving past Lucas. His loss is still so real to me. Seeing pregnant women still rips my heart out because I can't help but think that it should be me. But doing this, actively trying again, is something I need to do. I love him with all my heart, but in order to keep from becoming a useless ball of mush.

"There is no foot so small that it cannot leave an imprint on this world"

I am doing so much better than I was on Thursday. I had to tell a bunch of people today that I hadn't told yet. That was sooo hard.

Last night I had the opportunity to talk to a friend of mine whom I haven't spoken with in months. She has had several miscarriages and was a great source of information for me. She validated my feelings and even agreed with me about naming the baby and buying something in his memory.

I told her that I have dealt with the pain and disappointment of losing Lucas, but what has been bothering me the most is the fact that no one else will remember him. In ten years probably none of my friends will remember that I had a miscarriage, but I will always mourn my baby. No one will remember the life that wasn't even given a chance.

It saddens me so much that the only heart that grieves for him is mine, the only tears that are cried for him are mine, the only one who mourns what he may have contributed to the world is me.

He deserves more. I feel like I should take out a full-page ad in the paper saying, "The world lost the promise of a new life. You may have never known him, but he had an impact on someone and he will be missed. He may have never taken a breath but he was deeply loved and at least one person will always mourn his loss."

I'm doing better, but I still miss my baby. I don't cry every day, but my heart still mourns. I am coping, but I will never be "over it".

No, no, no

I feel like I want to run around the room, jump up and down on the couch and scream, "No, no, no!!! No, you don't know!"

I received an email from a friend saying how sorry she was that I lost my baby (I've decided to name him and his name is Lucas). At the end of the email she said, "I know how you feel, the pain of not getting pregnant for several months when I was TTC was unbearable."

No!! No you do NOT know how I feel! I have dealt with the pain of not getting pregnant for months and months. I know what that pain is like it is NOT the same thing. You have not had a miscarriage, you do NOT know how I feel.

Do not minimalize my pain. I lost my child. I understand this child was just a vague future possibility to you, but he was real to me. I fell in love with him the moment I knew he was inside of me. There was not a moment that went by that I didn't love him more than I have ever loved another human being. And when I knew I was losing him and there was nothing I could do to stop it I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

So, please, do NOT tell me that you know how I feel. There is no possible way you know how I feel right now.