Day 41

I'm sure I won't post this often, especially if tragedy strikes me again and I have another miscarriage...  I sometimes wonder why I can't commit to the decision of not having any more children.  Why can't I accept that we are not meant to have any more?  I think about that all the time.  I really do hope this one works out.  I always pictured myself with 4 children.  For as long as I can remember.  Not that I don't appreciate and love my 2 children.  They are amazingly wonderful.  I shouldn't be so selfish about wanting more.  I know I don't deserve more.  I want to be super excited about being pregnant again, and I am, but I am also terrified.  I don't want to have my heart broken again.

In February I took my son (then 4) to my appointment with me because the doctor said he would be able to tell me the sex of the baby and son wanted a brother so bad, he was so excited to go find out.  After waiting for our turn, the doctor had me get up on the bed and he turned on the machine.  As soon as he put the thingy on my belly I knew something was wrong.  The baby wasn't moving, not even a little.  I could see it's precious little head and eyes staring at me on the monitor staring into my soul.  I have never seen anything that has haunted me as much as that image.  I still have nightmares about it.  My poor son was whisked from the room by a nurse so the doctor could tell me it was gone, the baby I had seen move less than 4 weeks earlier no longer had a beating heart.  I know people have experienced far greater tragedy than I did that day but I cannot express the heartache.  I'm a very religious person and I have a good concept of the meaning of life but I was so angry at God that day.  I hope some day I will understand the reason.  I am not mad at God anymore, I have days where I blame myself for various things I did wrong during the pregnancy, but I know God loves me.