"I ain't so afraid of losing something that I aint gonna try and have it."

I have loved the quote from the title since I first heard it. It is from a very short lived but awesome tv show called Firefly. The woman who says it is a strong old west gunslinger type and she’s speaking to her husband about having a baby. He’s concerned about their lifestyle not being healthy for baby making, (they’re kind of Robin Hood like thieves) and she disagrees. She then says “You and I would make one beautiful baby, and I want to meet that child one day. Period.” I love that it’s her advocating for making a family when you would normally assume her character to be indifferent. After we lost little T and were finally able to try again, it’s become my mantra. I had so few pregnancy symptoms this month I’d score like a negative 3 on the ‘Am I knocked up?’ scale. Sore boobs? Nope. Narcolepsy? Nope. Itchy face? Nope. Peeing every 5 seconds? Holding it like a champ thanks very much. Automatic 5 pound even though it’s 3 fucking cells big so far weight gain? Nope. Lost 3 pounds actually, thanks for asking. (Hence the negative 3 score.) I even felt kinda crampy that day and wondered to myself if I was going to start soon. I was well aware I was not pregnant. None of that mattered it seems, because when I went to the bathroom and discovered I had started, I began sobbing Some people are testers, some are waiters. I had a friend who bought tests from the dollar store and made use of them. I’m a waiter. Every day I don’t test I have hope. Even when I have negative 3 symptoms I have hope. Foolish foolish girl. Because you always want more embarrassing information about me I have no problem telling you I use the bathroom in front of my husband. He has so little tact in front of the general public that it’s just not worth attempting it behind closed doors. He doesn’t care, I don’t care, we’re over it. I do not puke in front of anyone though. Well, except G, during all day pregnancy sickness because I was barfing WHILE changing her diaper and for large parts of the day, so what was I going to do? She thought it was hella funny anyway and would giggle at me then pretend to spit like me in the toilet. It’s a good thing it was so cute; “pew pew, hehehe pew pew.” Damn kid. Anyway, once I began crying I discovered my husband is at a complete loss as to what to do with his crying on the toilet wife. He just stopped and stared at me. Ummmm. (He was messing with his face in the mirror or something.) Poor guy. It’s hard to pee while crying by the way. I finally finished and go into the living room to cry some more. He follows and comforts me. He tells me it’s his sperm’s fault. That they’re just waiting for a perfect little boy before meeting and dividing, that it will happen. He’s very sweet. But it doesn’t change that we got pregnant the first 2 times by not using birth control. That’s the extent of it. We did nothing else, and this time we’re Trying and nothing is happening. It doesn’t change that after the pills in the hospital didn’t work, I had a D&C, then bled for 5 weeks, then hemorrhaged like nobody’s business, then had ANOTHER D&C, then didn’t get my period for 5 motherfucking weeks, none of which can be very good for the place that’s a baby’s home for 9 months. And now we’ve been trying and it hasn’t worked and it’s been 4 very long months since we lost our son. And it’s weighing on me. On my heart. On my very being. When we first lost him, I tried to express how sad I was that I thought our family was going to be complete, but now it’s not and who knows when it will be?! J looked at me and said; “Our family is complete. You, me, G, we are a family. Anyone else joining us is a bonus.” I was relieved. That we were enough for him. That if for some reason I’m broken, he won’t blame me for not being able to hold up my end of the bargain. But it’s me that doesn’t feel our family is finished. I’m still yearning for the baby I was “promised”. I got through it at the time by saying “This time next year you’ll have your baby. Everything will be fine, Go through this now, and by this time next year you’ll be busy and happy.” But I won’t be now. I won’t have baby before the birthday of the one I lost. Time keeps moving, and regardless of whether or not I’m pregnant Only a month and half before my due date. The date I was to be happy and fulfilled. I should be so fat right now. I’m finally losing the weight from G, oh the irony! 20 months later I weigh less then when I got pregnant with her, (although my ass remains bigger, of course) and I don’t care. I don’t care. I want my baby instead. *stomps foot and breaks into Veruca Salt’s “I Want it Now!”* I feel I should mention, I’m not all crazy and crying all month. I spend most of time…not sad… aware? I guess, of my missing baby, but it’s more in the background. It’s just those first couple days of knowing for sure that devastates me. *sigh* So now we know. Hysterics on the toilet=awkward. Probably not that surprising for most people. Also, after not exercising last night, eating too many See’s candies, and catching a cold that makes me itchy faced and tired, today I’d score much different, so probably it’s a good thing I started when I did. On the plus side I got a $30 check from my husband’s aunt for my birthday. Pretty sweet right? When I was a kid I’d write thank you notes to the giver and describe what my plans were for the gift. I’m considering spending it on a pack of cigarettes and an ovulation predictor kit. I’m allowed to smoke while I’m on my period, it’s not like I’m pregnant or something. Maybe I should keep that to myself.