Excuse me while I step onto my soapbox....

I am not a confrontational person, never have been. I am a lover, not a fighter. I want everyone to get along. If I was born in the 50's/60's I probably would have been a hippie because I am all peace, love, and happiness. Its amazing that this is my mantra through life considering the amount of crap I have been dealt over the past 23 years. Now I am not looking for a pity party. I am not looking for people to feel sorry for me. What I am looking for is a little understanding, a little compassion, a little empathy. I should not have to defend my grief, yet I find myself doing so almost on a daily basis. As do many other baby loss mothers I have met. And it is NOT RIGHT!

Yes, believe me, I understand that people go through miscarriages all the time. I have done plenty of research over the past 3 months and I understand the statistics, I understand I am not the only one, and I have never said I was. Babies, children, people die every single day. I get that. But just because it happens all the time, doesn't make it right, it doesn't make it any easier to go through when you're the person who is dealing with the loss. Telling me that people miscarry all the time and I need to get over it would be like me telling you if your child died that "children die all the time." It doesn't make a difference. It still hurts like hell.

I miscarried at 16 weeks. Now, I've never loss a pregnancy early on so I have no idea what that feels like, and I know that no matter what point you are at in a pregnancy, when you hear your baby did not or will not survive it is so hard. But I do believe there is a difference between losing your baby at 8 weeks and losing your baby at 16 weeks. 30 to 40% of first trimester pregnancies end in a miscarriage. That is a lot of people. And any women who has ever been pregnant will tell you that those first 3 months of a pregnancy are so scary, because any number of things can go very wrong. But we are told we just have to make it to that 12 week mark and we are in the "safe zone".  Once you make it into the second trimester, 13 weeks, your chances of miscarrying drop drastically to 1 to 5% of a chance. Maybe I was naive, but I thought I had made it into the safe zone, I thought I was going to get to bring my baby home. But I didn't. And NO it does not happen to a lot of people. It happens to 1-5% of pregnant women. That is a small number when you think of how many women are pregnant. My baby wasn't just a cluster of cells. My baby was about 4.5 inches long, my baby weighed about 2.75 ounces (approximately the size of an avocado). My baby had 10 fingers and 10 toes, my baby's muscles were developing, my baby could make facial expressions, my baby had finger nails.

If you don't like listening to me talk about my baby, don't come around. If you don't like reading about how I'm feeling then don't read my blog or my Facebook. This isn't about you. It is about me doing what I need to to get through each day. And if you can't handle that, if you can't be compassionate and understanding, then I don't want you in my life. I need people around me that are going to help lift me up, people that make me want to survive this. I DO NOT need people in my life that bring me down, people who make me feel worse than I already feel, people who make me want to give up. I'm letting go of those people starting right now, because I don't need them in my life.

Shoes

I am wearing a pair of shoes.

They are ugly shoes.

Uncomfortable shoes.

I hate my shoes.

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.

Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them.

I get funny looks wearing these shoes.

They are looks of sympathy.

I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.

They never talk about my shoes.

To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.

To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them

But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.

I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.

There are many pairs in the world.

Some women are like me and ache daily as they try to walk in them.

Some have learned to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.

Some have worn these shoes so long that days will go by before they think of how much they hurt.

No woman deserves to wear these shoes.

Yet, because of the shoes I am a stronger woman.

These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.

They have made me who I am.

I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Author Unknown

92 days....

Dearest Baby Sellers,

It has been 3 months since daddy and I last felt true happiness, true optimism. That's 13 weeks ,92 days, of living half a life. Both of us are missing a piece of our hearts, the pieces you took with you when you left this Earth behind. It's weird to think I should be 30 weeks pregnant with you right now. I should be 10 weeks from meeting you, from holding you in my arms, from smothering you in all the love and kisses in the world, but I'm not. It feels like just yesterday we heard the awful news, I remember every single detail for that day, but at the same time it feels like an eternity has passed since you were safe inside of me. Time is such a scary thing.

I'm trying to stay positive, but it's so hard some days. This roller coaster ride of grief I'm on is absolutely exhausting some days. Some days I feel okay again, like I'm getting the light back in my life that I lost 3 months ago. And then other days I feel so sad, so hopeless, so depressed. Everyone told me it would get better with time, but that's a lie. Some days are easier then others, but they aren't ever better. I do know that 3 months ago I never thought I would be were I am right now. I survived these past 3  months, as much as I didn't want to. And I'm trying to stay hopeful that maybe three months from today things will be a little easier. I miss you so much little one. You are on my mind all the time. I love you to the moon and back.

Love,
Your mommy

Why me?

Over the past few weeks I have been trying really really hard to be happy and optimistic, but lately I just don't seem to have any optimism left in me. I lay in bed every night and the question, why me, runs through my head over and over again. Why did this happen to me? Why is this my life now? Did I do something terrible in my life and this is my punishment? I know I'll never get an answer, and that is what kills me. If I knew why this had to happen, why my baby had to die, maybe I could find some closure, maybe I could find a way to move on. But right now I feel like I'm stuck in this hole of anger and sadness and no matter how much I try to put on a happy face and pretend I'm doing fine, at the end of the day I'm sad, I'm angry, and I miss my baby so much.

It doesn't help that every where I turn someone else is announcing they're expecting. Kim Kardashian, Jessica Simpson, Kate and William, people all over my Facebook newsfeed....pregnancy is every where lately! I swear everyone and their sister is pregnant...except for me. And every time I see one of those announcements it's like a knife straight to my heart, I honestly feel like I'm having a panic attack, which then makes me feel guilty. I don't want people to lose their babies, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. It's just that I want that so bad, I want a baby so bad, and it seems like everyone gets one except me. No matter how hard I try to make sense of losing my baby, or try to find the silver lining, it comes down the the fact that it's just not fair. I know I have a good life and I know I have many blessings, but I would give it all up in a heart beat to have my baby. I did everything the way I was supposed to. I went to college, I got married, we bought a house, I graduated from college, I got a job, and next was supposed to come a baby, that's what I wanted, what I was expecting. And now I'm faced with the harsh reality that that may not be my future...a baby may not be in my future. And I don't know how to accept that, I can't accept that. All I know is that reality really is a bitch.