Rage.

April 5 is quickly approaching.

The anticipation is killing me. I have found that I am constantly on edge lately, and even the smallest things can set me off into a you-shut-your-mouth-because-you've-never-watched-your-baby-die homicidal rage.

The more I see my doctor, the worse this rage gets.

Doc L said a cerclage would be an option after several weeks of monitoring for cervical changes, even though he doesn't think there is a cervical issue. He waited until last minute to put in orders for Radiology to check them. Incorrectly, might I add. It took 3 hours and 4 trips between clinics to just get an appointment booked.

I wanted a second opinion from an outside specialist. The clinic said I had to get one from another clinic doctor first.

Doc J wanted to do a colposcopy because three previous Paps had shown some pre-cancer cells. She wanted to check to make sure they weren't getting worse or likely to cause any issues. She did cervical checks herself, and she wanted to do a cerclage right there because it looked like my cervix was funneling. After sitting in the clinic all day with nothing to eat and freaking out because I was there alone, it turned out that it wasn't funneling so the cerclage could wait. She decided not to do the colposcopy because I had already been through so much.

Doc L now says, after only one measurement, that a cerclage is most likely not needed because he just doesn't feel in his heart of hearts that it's a cervical issue and the last pregnancy was just a recurrent miscarriage fluke. He will keep monitoring for changes over the next few weeks, but he doesn't see any reason for me to be considered high risk after 20 weeks. After that, I don't have to worry about miscarriage.

WHAT?!?!??! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!

Oh, and he also doesn't think it's necessary to see a high risk specialist. So no referral. I talked to the Tricare representative, and she said that if he doesn't give me a referral, my only option is to drop my coverage and pay for it myself.

Let me re-iterate that, just so we can both be on the same page with that statement. People all over this country can't get treatment because they don't have insurance coverage. But I have to DROP my coverage to get it. Does that make sense to anyone else?


I am 16 days away from being 18 weeks+1 day, exactly one year to the day after losing my son at 18 weeks+2 days. There were no visible cervical changes. I was in the exam room following up a bad ER visit with contractions and a uterus full of blood. The doctor said everything looked perfect because his ultrasound screen didn't show any blood. Four hours later I caught my son in my hands and held him, helplessly watching him die.

But I am supposed to calmly listen to this guy, without question, because his heart tells him it was just a fluke?


Deep in what's left of my heart, I would never wish the pain of child loss on anyone. But lately, more than anything, I want these people to live my nightmares and flashbacks. I want them to be terrified of pissing in the middle of the night. I want them to desperately pray there's no blood when they're getting undressed. I want them to know what it's like to live with that image of a struggling, dying baby burned into their brains. I want them to understand why being pregnant isn't so easy, especially after a traumatic loss. Or, in my case, two traumatic losses. I want them to know what it's like to wonder day after day if you will ever get to hear your baby cry, to hold them and bring them home in something other than an urn.


Loss is all I have ever known of pregnancy. How can he, or anyone else, expect me to not be scared?

Spring.

I haven't written in a long time, and I feel bad about it.

I have been so exhausted these past several weeks. I come home from work exhausted and pass out on the couch until bed time. I've lost almost 12 pounds since December because I can't stop puking, even with meds.

I started cramping at work earlier in the week. The next day I started spotting. I panicked. Everything turned out fine, but not without an entire week of terrifying doctor visits. 

April 5 is coming up fast. A little less than 3 weeks, I think. I will be 18 weeks and 1 day. Last year on April 5, Brake was born at 18 weeks and 2 days.

The closeness in dates. The anticipation. The uncertainty. It's all unnerving. And honestly, probably adding to the puking and exhaustion. That peace and calm that I felt earlier in the pregnancy? I'm not feeling it quite so much anymore.

Every time things start to get to me, I hear this tiny little voice say "Trust me." I want to. I want to so badly. But then I start thinking about last year and everything starts spiraling out of control again. I don't want to watch another baby die.


On a good note, I got moved to a different workplace when I got pregnant. My chain of command wanted to wash their hands of the situation, so to speak, after how everything happened last year. My new chief talked to me about my pregnancy. Without going into much detail about last year, I let him know that I was a high risk for pre-term labor and that the doctors had mentioned possible cervical stitches and bed rest. He doesn't even want to wait for the doctors to make that call. When I go in next week, I go in for about 3 hours a day to do some shop paperwork.

Since I'm going to be spending so much time at home, and because I actually get to see the sun this summer, my patio is all prepped for a relaxing little spring time haven. A new comfy furniture set. New blooming flowers everywhere and a few more on the way. (You Are My Child has a great flower fundraiser going on, by the way. I got some for the patio and for the memory garden at my mom's.) Bryan even got me a feeder for all the tiny little finches that like to play in our yard.

I'm hoping the fresh spring air and flowers help. If I can manage to relax and maybe even get in some painting time, maybe I can calm the fears a little better. Or at least stop puking and be able to put on some weight.

Colin.

I don't normally post stuff like this, but this is really heavy on my heart.


I've come to consider many of yall my very dear friends over the last several months that I've been on here. The thing about this community is that we are share each other's pain. We've all been through this nightmare, and we're all trying to keep ourselves together and keep going. And the beautiful thing is that in spite of our own pain, we are always there for the next person, helping to pull them back together as well.

(One More Day by Diamond Rio, from YouTube)

I heard this song on the radio on my way home from work today, and I bawled. Uncontrollably.

One year ago today, Steven lost his gorgeous two month old son Colin. As most of you know, this has been an incredibly hard year for their family. They have been on my mind all week, and today, hearing that song, I felt such a huge weight of their pain. But it's nothing like the pain they are feeling tonight.

Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers, and if you have a few minutes to spare, maybe leave him some words of encouragement and love.