New year.

I have come into December with bittersweet feelings, that for the most part have melted away. I can confidently say that my bout with depression is over. I am so intensely relieved and thank Heavenly Father EVERY time I pray that I can feel joy again. That I can be happy just "being" again. That I can just swell with love for my son like I did before. I know by the way it ended and how quickly my emotions changed that it was a not just something that happened, but a very precisely picked trial. It was planned out from the beginning down to the number of days it would last. I had tried so many things that just didn't help at all. Even the antidepressant I tried made me so sick I couldn't stand it. I was MEANT to feel every little tiny bit of hopelessness, depression, darkness, and misery I did. I got to the point that I was so entirely fatigued and beaten by it, that I just needed some reprieve. Some kind of release from the horror even if only for a few minutes. That is how it affected me so completely every moment. I just so desperately needed a break. I was losing my grip and fight so quickly I was willing to turn to meds to get my small release. Just anything to stop the pain and even of only marginally re cooperate. Then, I can remember that I just woke up one morning, and felt good. It really was over that quickly. As soon as I really did hit my breaking point, it was over. I had felt I'd reached it sooo long ago, but I really hadn't. How do you know how strong a tree limb is until you've broken it? It's been a couple of weeks now, and those torturous months I spent in despair, that seemed to simply never, end seem so small now. I still can feel the sharpness of my loss, but I don't feel so lost anymore. I came into December with inescapable pain, and I am approaching Christmas with so much less burden. It has been exactly one year now since we started trying to have a baby. Just a few weeks ago, I would have come upon this anniversary with such excruciating heartbreak. I would have cried from pain for hours. But, I'm not. I am so sad to know that I don't have my baby that should be a month old now, but I'm not broken from it like I was before. My trial is over, and I can only pray I passed the test. Sometimes I don't feel like it gave me any benefit at all. Don't trials make us better people? I didn't feel better, just broken. Even after the pain subsided. Then I got some revelation that I will never forget.

1. Back in our pre-mortal existence, we looked upon our Heavenly Father and Mother, and could see something different. And it was so desirable that we VOLUNTEERED to come to earth, endure pain, heartache, despair, darkness, and every horrible thing to obtain what they had. Of course we didn't completely understand what it was we were signing up for. How could we? We had never experienced anything before. But what they had must have been so beautiful, we would make that tremendously hard journey.

2. This life is the TEST not the REWARD. This life is designed to be hard. To tempt us, to hurt us, to tear us apart. It has to be hard to get the great reward. Even the most valuable rewards mean little if only little is needed to obtain them. Our reward is THE greatest reward. Nothing is more precious. So shouldn't it be the most difficult to achieve? Shouldn't it cost us the most?

3. The atonement is beyond my capacity to describe as precious. It was so perfectly designed with such perfect love. Christ paid the price for not only our darkest sins, but for our pain as well. All our pain we experience innocently at the hands of others, or because of nature, or because of health, was also endured by Christ. He knows how you feel. He does because he felt it, too. So he is the perfect comforter. Let him. Because he knows you and your pain.

4. Trials will come. And you should be grateful they are long and hard, and that Heavenly Father lets you struggle. We can only gain experience in opposites. We can only experience joy at the same degree as pain you experience. You can only feel the highest highs if you know the lowest lows. You must know the dark to know the light. So, while journeying through the valley of death, just remember that joy, just as exquisitely good as this is bad, will come. This hardship will allow you to see the beauty in your life with much deeper understanding. And you will cherish it all the more.

5. Keep an eternal perspective. We have heard it so many times: it will be a small moment. And it will! It will. You all know that because you can look back now and see the hard times in your lives, and they are small now. Keep your eye on your reward. Keep your eye on that characteristic that Heavenly Father and Mother had that we saw in the pre-existence. We trusted them to send us here. Don't lose that faith and trust now. Consider this. A bee stuck in a bus couldn't get out no matter how hard it tried. The bus driver opened a window and tried to usher it out. The bee wouldn't be guided. Trust in someone who has a greater perspective than you to guide you. It may not make sense to you, but it would if you had a different perspective. Keep your eternal perspective.

6. YOU are the one who decides what happens to you because of your trials. MAKE them mean something. Don't endure the trial just to be the same afterward. You paid for something. Don't let it slip away. Make the trial work for you. Use it!

Things I have learned:

1. I have never had the opportunity to become so close and dependent on my Father in Heaven and my Savior Jesus Christ.

2. I have learned how to thirst and hunger for the gospel. How precious and priceless the sacrament is, and how I simply need the rest I get when I am in the presence of the Spirit.

3. I have learned how to need to pray always.

4. I know the meaning of "I need thee every hour"

5. I can so clearly understand some truths about the atonement I didn't before.

6. Faith does not make a trial end. Faith is still going to church, still serving, and still having hope through it.

7. I can do hard things.

8. All things are possible with Christ. No matter what it is.

9. So very few of the things I "care" about day to day don't matter at all.

10. The greatest characters are the most scarred.

My Father in Heaven loves me enough to turn me into something of great beauty like pressure does to coal. So here I am at the 1 year mark with a whole new perspective. And I am making this trial mean something. It will not be just a hard time for me to forget. Rather, it will be a hard time that taught me some of the most sweet truths of my life. So, here I go with this new year.

I hate news.

So I know I have posted that I have been feeling soo much better lately, and I have, but it still doesn't do me any good to keep hearing about people getting pregnant or having babies. I swear there is someone new with news EVERY TIME I log into facebook. Totally ruined my night. I still want a baby so badly. I still miss my two babies so much. It STILL HURTS TO HEAR ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE'S PREGNANCIES!!!

So I have been reading through my previous posts today. I probably shouldn't have because it brought back just how sharp and deep the pain was. And sometimes is. At first it was always bad, but then it was only bad most of the time, then only sometimes, and now not very often. But all my posts have had the worst of times. So, though it seems like I've been lying in a ditch for 3 straight months, I really haven't been all of the time. I really do think I have been getting a lot better. Why do you ask? Because some people have said some things to me recently that I know would have sent me reeling or made me pulsate with anger before. But I didn't react that way, and I'm glad. I feel I am gaining control again. One of my friends whom I had confided in before spoke with me after I hadn't talked to her for almost a month. When I told her about my anxiety I was still experiencing, she said, "Still?" I was so shocked for a moment, I actually think my jaw dropped. Is there a time limit? I wasn't filled in if there was one. But I didn't get mad like I know I would have before. And out bishop called us in to talk to us one Sunday after church, for reasons I still don't know. He asked how we were doing and asked about the day he saw me crying. LDS family services contacted him and told him I called looking for a therapist. I didn't know they would call him, and I was caught off guard. It's not that I didn't want him to know. He is my friend and I would have told him anyway. I guess I just expected some patient privacy. But anyway, he asked me about what was going on that day. So I told him through lots of tears the basics of the story. And he said, "It's out of my hands." "All things happen for a reason." And "Things will happen when they happen." Even a week ago I would have been so filled with rage at what he had said. But I was mostly let down and a little angry. I had been looking so hard for a "message," I guess, from Heavenly Father. I had asked my husband to give me a blessing hoping for a little glimmer of hope or a promise or something. Nothing. Then I waited for a week to see the bishop hoping he might offer to give me a blessing or something. Or feel impressed to tell me something. Nothing. I feel so ungrateful saying it, but I feel so abandoned. Not only can I not get pregnant, I don't even get a "good job" or "you're almost done" let alone a "you will bear another child." Pretty much how I've felt my whole life: forgotten. At least I have my son.

I love the internet.

This is an article I found online today. It really helps so much to know that someone else feels EXACTLY how I do. Down to the hate and jealousy and everything.

The doctor's silence tells me everything I need to know. Eventually, he clears his throat, and says in a voice deliberately gentled, "I'm very sorry". And so am I. There on the screen before us, I can make out the form of a tiny curled foetus and, where a few weeks earlier, its heart was thumping with life, it now lies still in the cavernous vacancy of my womb. This is no longer a baby. It is a miscarriage.

It surprises me how surprised I am. This is the sixth baby we will have lost; you would think that I would be used to it by now. But maybe it's not surprising that I had to believe in this baby, as though by investing in it some hope, and some love, I could will it into being.

They have run all the tests. Like the majority of women with recurrent miscarriage, they have found nothing wrong with me. They don't know why this is happening.

In my mother's generation, there were no early pregnancytests, and you weren't officially pregnant until you had missed three periods. These days, it's different. The very first day of absent menstruation can find you racing to the chemist, and then fumbling with instructions and collection pots and testing sticks until that tell-tale blue line makes its announcement.

The next step is a visit to your GP, where you are told the day your baby is due. You are handed a free book on pregnancy containing photographs and descriptions of your developing baby. It confidently states that, by 12 weeks, the foetus is fully formed. (It doesn't warn you here that only five out of six pregnancies make it this far). The book suggests that you make an early appointment with your midwife and begin thinking about where you want your baby to be born. So you do.

And you discover the unmistakable differences that pregnancy brings – the signs that women have never needed testing kits to tell them. A visit from the tit-fairy brings you newly enlarged and extra-sensitive bosoms. You have a vastly increased need for food and for sleep. You feel more squeamish, more nauseous, more emotional and more hygienic. The hormone rushes make you feel like you're stoned. Lack of food makes you violent. You feel the glow of life inside you. You begin to plan and to dream. You probably chat to your baby. You consider its sex and its name.

And then you begin to bleed.

So you've lost your baby. And it's such a massive thing to lose. You, me, everyone reading this, we all started out as a little smudge of amniotic cells. My children would be 18 months old, or four months old, or I would be five months pregnant. I've lost a good friend because her baby was born on the day that mine was due and I have never been to see him. It hurts too much.

I have never known depression like the cloud that descends every time I lose a baby. I can compare it with the death of a close friend and I can honestly say that it's worse. When a friend of mine died suddenly, we viewed the body, we buried him and we were able to say goodbye. I had the company of others who were as grief-stricken as I was. My mind replayed moments with him – a ceaseless video stream of memories, which was part of the way that my brain processed the loss.

With a miscarriage, I'm left battling through the layers of euphemism to even recognise that I have been bereaved. What is this that has happened? "Pregnancy loss"? The word "baby" was never mentioned by the staff in the Early Pregnancy Advisory Unit. When the scan revealed that my baby was no longer viable, I was referred for an operation with the horrendous name of "Evacuation of Retained Products of Conception". My child, described as clinical waste.

If there's no body, how can I grieve? I feel as though I must be kidding myself, wallowing in a morass of grief over a person who never even lived. Every time my mind trips back to this death, this loss, it strikes on empty, because there's nothing there to miss. This jellybean, lying forlornly on some toilet tissue – how can that sum up all my hopes and dreams for this child? How can it contain all my love?

I almost welcome the pain and blood that happens when I miscarry. It seems more real to me than opting for an operation under general anaesthetic. There is pain involved. I want to feel it.

When a friend dies, you can seek solace in the company of other mourners. Miscarriage, by contrast is an entirely private grief. There's me and my partner, and he's generally so intent on protecting and comforting me that it's hard for him to make space for his emotions. "How are you?" a friend will ask, in a conversational tone, and I wonder, do they really want to know the blackness of my mood? Every time it happens, I find it harder to struggle through, and yet I fear that, for my friends, this drama has become repetitive and boring. With each miscarriage I need help more, yet I feel I can ask for it less.

I am a mother. I have a child, conceived after my third miscarriage. In an earnest attempt at consolation, I am repeatedly told "Well, at least you have got him". And it's true, and I love my son dearly: he is perfect, wonderful and amazing. I am aware that the pain of other women who never carry a child must be greater than mine. But that doesn't mean that I'm not hurting. Having had a baby, I know exactly what it is I've lost. I know what it feels like to give birth, to breast-feed and to raise a child. The stack of baby clothes that I have in the attic is slowly diminishing, pragmatically distributed to women who are actually having babies, not ghosts.

And alongside the helplessness and hopelessness there is another, even darker emotion. It could be politely described as bitterness. How it actually feels to me is hatred. I hate pregnant women. This is nuts. I have been heavily pregnant myself and I know it's no fun. What I should feel is sympathy. Envy would be understandable, but hatred? What's going on here?

There's generally no point trying to bury your emotions. It's only by feeling them and naming them that you can get through them. And if you try to run away from them, they have a habit of catching up with you. Jealousy and hatred are impolite, socially unacceptable emotions, but they could serve a purpose. Throughout the animal kingdom, there are examples of bereaved mothers attempting to steal babies. Maybe I'm just part of a bigger picture here. The survival of the species is best achieved if there is a mechanism for matching up thwarted parents with unwanted babies. And I have reached the point where I've thought, "She's got my baby. That's my baby that she's growing." Insanity, I know, but possibly evolutionarily useful insanity.

So where does this leave me now?

The stakes keep rising but we have to keep playing the game. Maybe another baby will arrive to heal the hole in my heart. Or maybe my life will continue, trapped into this loop, like a needle that lands on a record but hits a scratch and lifts off again before the song even starts playing.

On a practical level, we don't seem to have much problem conceiving, which isn't entirely a blessing. I am sincerely grateful that we haven't spent thousands of pounds on IVF to walk this difficult road. But it does mean that any time we want to step off the roller-coaster, to gather our energies for the next ride, we have to avoid trying to conceive a baby that we desperately want. Which makes our lovemaking very poignant. The only fixed point that I can see ahead is the eventual end of my child-bearing years. Either we will have had another baby, or we will have tried. I won't be so sentimental as to say that these unborn babies will stay with me, because they never really lived, but these scars will have made me part of who I am. And I am proud of that.

Our society conspires to render miscarriage invisible. There is an unwritten rule that a woman should never announce her pregnancy until she reaches three months "just in case". Just who is this helping? The first trimester is when a woman does the work of creating the baby. Every organ in the baby's body is formed, and the mother experiences worse fatigue andnausea than at any other point of gestation. Women need to be supported through this vulnerable period and, with no outward sign that they are pregnant, how are they going to access that help if they can't ask for it?

And if they miscarry, as one in six early babies will, women need even more support through their trauma. "Not telling" leaves women stranded with their grief. How can they begin to explain that they are mourning the loss of something whose existence was kept secret in the first place?

Pregnancy is a superstitious time and I can see why women don't want to tempt fate by announcing their news too soon. But fate has dealt me that blow, the one people don't talk about, and I can tell you that the fact that people don't talk about it makes it a whole lot worse.

So talk. Tell. We can be proud of our pregnancies, no matter how "successful" they are. A hurting heart is a sign of a loving heart. The only thing that has really helped me through this is knowing other women who have been through the same thing. Miscarriage is such a common trauma – there is no reason for us to be alone in our grief.

Kate Evans's book on breast-feeding, 'The Food of Love', is published by Myriad Editions (£12.99). Her email is kate@cartoonkate.co.uk

No more fight.

I think that my fight has officially evaporated. I have been in an uncomfortable state of numb for a while. I don't have to fight to get through the days anymore, which is a plus, and I also can feel some joy in the day. Big improvement. But I still feel angry sometimes. Bitter even, but mostly what I feel day to day is numb. I just don't care. I don't care about seeing or talking to my friends. I don't even want to talk most of the time and would rather shut myself in. I was even shocked when I found myself wondering why I was trying to get pregnant again. I didn't even care. A lot of stuff is just sitting around, chores aren't getting done, because I just don't care. I have a hard time reminding myself that this will all be for good in the end. It's hard to keep in mind what I've learned, too. Did I learn? Am I a better person now? I just feel so damaged. My mind is broken. I find things out of place, or in place, and can't remember how it got there. Then I remember eventually after some staring, that I did it. It's hard, too, because at first, people expected me to be sad. Now they expect me to be normal, and I am just not normal yet. So I feel like I have to keep it to myself. Put on a face. My therapist told me to feel what I feel when I feel it. And I have really been trying to do that, but it is hard when I have to hide it from people. I guess it helps to just get it out, but I can't help but feel that maybe they are right. Maybe I should be over this by now. Why has it been so insanely difficult for me? I don't know. But it is. That's all I do know.

Rough.

So I finally broke down and saw a therapist. Which, to my relief, felt so good. It honestly has helped so much. I was able to validate my feelings, learn a little about grief, and relieve some unnecessary guilt. He also gave me some pointers on what to do from now on. When I start feeling angry, jealous, guilty, or sad, I need to identify the real reason behind the emotions. I can easily say it is because I lost my babies and haven't succeeded in getting pregnant most of the time. Other times, I can't tell what it is. But I let the emotion swell over me anyway because if I don't, it will only get worse. Today after an unexpected conversation that unexpectedly turned to THAT subject, I was in tears for hours. During the conversation my converser mentioned that she knew, just knew, the only way she was able to get pregnant again was because she was so so grateful for the two children she already had.

Knife to the heart.

I was crying uncontrollably for some time. I tried to pinpoint the emotion, but was having difficulty. Anger? Not really. Jealousy? No. Pain. Just pain. From the intensity of it all. From the length of it all. From it all. But I couldn't help myself from letting the guilt wash over me again. Was I being ungrateful? Was that why I couldn't have another baby? Was it because I don't have enough faith? I know that answers to questions wont come until after the trial is over, because that is part of the trial. Not knowing. That is part of having faith. That is part of being patient. But still, I can't help but think that this whole thing would be a lot easier if I knew where the end was. What I should be learning. I know that changes are hard. No, not just hard, down right difficult. I know that this will change me into a better person. I know there will be an end. What end? I don't know, but there will be something. But it doesn't lessen my pain any. I'm starting to wonder now if getting pregnant will even stop this heartache. I used to think that that would be the only cure. But now I don't even know. I don't know.

Missing my babies.

I have been thinking a lot the last couple weeks. And sometimes, I don't even know I'm thinking. But after a while I realize I was, and then wish I hadn't. Tomorrow was the due date of my first baby I lost. I wish I could just sleep through the day and somehow just pass over all the emotion and void of the day. But even think of it make me feel it now. I had felt so sure then that it would be ok, because I would be pregnant again on my baby's due date. It wouldn't hurt so badly because I would have something to fill the emptiness. But now, as I think that comforting thought, I can't help but to speculate at everything I have lost. I have lost not just one baby, but two. Now I can't even have a period. Everything about motherhood as been taken from me. I couldn't have my babies, then I couldn't get pregnant, now I can't even ovulate. What kind of woman, (let alone mother) am I? I have had such a terrible time trying so hard to just live life before I knew I wanted another baby. Why is it so impossible now? I try so hard to distract myself. Stay busy, watch TV, do chores, go shopping, something to keep my mind away from the terrible void I feel. But then I start thinking, and next thing I realize is that I've done it. I started wishing for my babies. I started to feel so hopeless. The pain is so crushing, and it is so hard to deal with sometimes. I'm running out of energy to keep trying to put myself together over and over.

I have been trying to just control the emotion and heartache, but that isn't working. All I'm doing is putting out fires. So I managed to come up with some hard to come by motivation and start being proactive. Start trying to prevent instead of dealing with the mess afterward. That kind of perspective works incredible well in medicine, maybe it can emotionally as well. So I start by stitching myself together in the mornings after dreaming about having a positive pregnancy test most mornings. Then I have been trying to stay busy. And it works while I can stay busy, but even 5 minute gaps are enough for everything to unravel. So new game plan. My dear cousin in law (who has been through so much more than me) told me to see a therapist because it helped her so much. So I can hopefully get that phonecall accomplished today. Next, see the good in my trial. This has been one hell of a trip, so may as well make some good of it.

1. I can empathize with other mothers who have lost their babies. I know the heartache. Even if the baby was only a couple weeks along. And I know the emotional roller coaster they will be on for the next several months.

2. I am probably not being patient in this endeavor, but I am babysitting a little girl right now. And my patience for her has increased 100 fold. Also my patience with people I don't like. I have this horrible personality trait that I have always always hated. Sometimes when people rub me the wrong way, or boss me around, or are pessimistic, or know-it-alls, I start to block them out. And even despise them. Time doesn't even erase how I feel. I started feeling like that towards a family member I love so deeply. And I was so conflicted and guilty. Why did I detest them? And I think that this trial may have helped me stamp that personality trait out. I hope so, because it is one of the things I hate in others and the thing I hate most about myself.

3. I have a beautiful healthy son. He is my life. He is my driving force when I have lost my will.

4. I am learning that I really have no control over my life. It is in the Lord's hands, and while he lets me drive most of the time, sometimes there is not one thing I can do until the Lord wills it.

5. It has taught me to pray always.

6. It has taught me to love to fast.

7. It has taught me how weak I am.

8. It has taught me also how strong I am.

I am so broken. I hope this doesn't last much longer.

Recovery. Yeah right.

To say the least, this week has NOT been easy. I have been so torn by two impossible predicaments for myself. On one hand, I have become completely obsessed with being pregnant. I want it so badly that it consumes my daily thought. So much so I even think of it when I'm doing other things that are intended to keep my mind off that very thought. Every day I am constantly paying attention to cramping, bleeding, mood swings, appetite changes, ANYTHING that might mean I am ovulating or am pregnant. Any slight moisture and I am running to the bathroom to see if it is blood. On the other hand, I am in no way ready to handle being pregnant because then comes the possibility of losing my baby again. I have been diagnosed with PTSD, postpartum depression, and anxiety. I am on medication now to handle them, but it isn't working. I have medically lost my mind. Or more appropriately, broken it. And it isn't coming back together. I fall apart at the slightest things. I can be laughing so hard it hurts one minute, and crying the next. I still find myself feeling like something is missing or wrong, then come to the chilling realization that it is my mind. And the end is so far off. So far off, that it is like the burning you feel when you hold your breath for 30 seconds. You have held on so long, it hurts so bad, I must breathe! Only to see the end is months away. Not moments, not hours, not days, or even weeks. Months. How can you hold your breath that much longer? How? Then I get the sinking feeling that I am not going to make it. Why try? I can't go that far. Just the overwhelming feeling that I know I am emotionally, physically, and mentally spent now, but the end is so impossibly far away, is what I feel. That brief moment when when you are falling before you hit the floor. When you travel miles and miles on foot to reach the brim of your sacred valley to find it is a desert. No sweet relief from turmoil, no water, no shade. A barren waste. Cracked, bone dry dirt. Dust. There is nothing here. I must get pregnant to relieve my mind of its obsession. I can't get pregnant because even the possibility of losing it is unbearable. I NEED both things, but I can handle neither.

Yesterday I met with old friends. One is pregnant, and I knew she was. But I almost backed out because I didn't think I could face her. But I pulled myself together and I went to the party. I was doing ok. Then, another of the friends announced she was 3 mo along. I went numb and I couldn't even move. I can't be hearing this. It took weeks for me to prepare myself to see one friend pregnant. Then I all of a sudden had another just spashed in my face. I couldn't even process it. I was just trying so hard to shut the doors. I don't think I was even breathing. Then, to my utmost horror, someone turned and asked me if I had anything to announce. The tears just started spilling. I couldn't even find words for I don't now how long. This is the start of another shatter. Crumble. Breakdown. I should be 9 mo along right now. Was about all I could muster.

Recovery? yeah right.

My Son.

Have you ever had one of those days in school where you can't even try your hardest to focus? Your mind is just bent on wandering? I feel like that. I feel like that a lot. I have been doing ok, and even been trying to move forward. I feel happy even sometimes. But, like I posted before, my emotional state is still excruciatingly fragile. I can completely break down at the sight of something. It's to the point now that I fear what sets me off. When I see a pregnant woman, instead of pangs of jealousy followed by sorrow, I feel panic. Panic because I don't know how long this set back will take. How long I will take to get back to baseline after this break down. It doesn't take long anymore, but still each one is unbearable. I think that my mind has been blocking out the world, life, maybe most things, because then I won't notice the things that make me hurt. My mind is numb most of the time, but I only notice when I find myself staring out at nothing. Today I didn't notice until after I put my son to bed.

He had been a little whiny today, but I couldn't figure out why. I had changed him, given him snacks he didn't eat, filled his cup. I could only think he was tired or bored. When I was cleaning up after he was in bed, I realized I couldn't find anything I had given him to eat. He must have actually eaten everything I gave him. Which was a lot for him right now. He hasn't been eating much lately. I just sat on the couch and cried thinking that my baby was hungry and I couldn't even tell. I was not there for him. He had ended up eating a whole granola bar, a whole cheese stick, some strawberries, some trail mix, and some smarties. This is a feast compared to what he has been eating lately. But there was not one crumb anywhere. He had eaten it all. Where am I? Where is the mom who cares so much about her son's nutrition? About his development? I know he is too young to notice, but I notice. I'm faltering. I am still so confused. I don't know what's going on. I CANNOT let this affect my son. I have to snap out of this. I have to do something more.

Hormones?

My emotional state has been excruciatingly fragile lately. I was feeling so hopelessly down a few days ago, but some friend therapy had helped tremendously. I was feeling pretty good for a day or two. But, I was having some pretty insane dreams. Yesterday morning I sat and thought a while. I don't get plain weird dreams unless I'm pregnant. A firework went off in my chest. I had made up my mind to wait a couple of months and let my mind mend a little before I attempted the emotional loop again. But one night of total and complete loss of control both mentally and physically a week ago had my mind reeling right then. How could that happen? I just had a D&C. It normally took me 3 mo to get pregnant at all. How can I face the possibility of going through this again? I wanted to cry, scream, laugh, explode! But really, I was so happy. I had hope. I hadn't gone to the bathroom yet, so I tried not to be too excited and grabbed a test. I was trying to calculate the number of days in my head while fumbling with the wrapper. A week. I should still technically wait a week before I test. I just could not wait. So I did it. Waiting, waiting, WAITING. How is waiting 30 seconds for a test so horrible? I looked at it, and I knew it wasn't going to be a bright blue obvious line because I was testing so early, but I looked and looked. And it was there! I know it! A faint blue line. Could it be? Am I just wanting to see it so bad that it is magically there? No. I looked at it 50 different times and each time I could see it. Hope!! I had a flame of hope alive again. I couldn't believe how excited I was to have the possibility of being pregnant again. Even if it meant I could also be facing the possibility of losing it again. I was so happy that day. I was myself. I felt so light and free. I had another impossibly crazy dream that night. So weird that it woke me up several times. I was so sure I was pregnant. I just wanted to sing! Then I went to the bathroom sometime later that day. And there was blood. My period must be starting. My world came crashing down again. Why did I let myself get like this? Why am I so desperate? Where is my faith? Where is my endurance? I found myself sobbing in the bathroom. I was angry and hurt. Anger. I had done so well to keep myself away from that. Who was this person here? Where did these feelings come from? I was able to keep my mind busy for a while until my husband came home. I told him what happened, and he gave me a blessing of comfort. I wanted him to say that I would bear another child in the blessing so badly. He paused at the end, then closed the blessing. I could hardly even cry because of shock. Tears just streamed down my cheeks so hot and wet. My eyes were so blurry. My husband had to go back to work, and had a hard time leaving. I was looking so forward to the relief of the blessing and the relief to know that I would bear another child in my future. I was so angry! I screamed and cried and cried. I didn't even know whom I was becoming. I never reacted like this. I was so angry and upset. I went and burned it off on the eliptical. After a good work out, I was feeling more humble and I knelt in prayer. I didn't even know what to say. But I was feeling better. The comfort was coming even though I didn't know if I would ever have a child again or not. I have cooled my feelings down and thought a lot. I learned that no matter what your intentions, no matter what you expect of yourself, you see a side of yourself you never see except in adversity. I am not the person I want to be. I am not the person I see my self being in adversity. All these thoughts and feelings have been brought out. Where was this rock I had imagined? Where was my faith I had planned for? Why can't I do anything right? I hated myself. I could not meet the challenge. This trial has brought out some things I never wanted to see in myself. I was so horrified at myself. Trials should build faith, not destroy it. I prayed so hard for forgiveness. I cried and cried again because of shame of myself. And here I am. Ready for tomorrow. Still terribly fragile, but ready. Because even though I have felt off and on that I am so alone, I am not. I am not comfortless. I know I am being prepared for something. I don't know what, but I've felt that way the last few hours. Maybe just life in general, but I know I will take from this something that will benefit me and possibly others in the future.

Can't kick it.

I have long ago accepted that we are not in control of everything. But, I thought we were still in control of somethings. For instance, I can still be in control of my state of being, my outlook on life, and my moods. Well, I have been forced to accept that that is not the case all the time. I have never felt so out of control, or helpless. Our minds are very fragile and have incredibly delicate hormonal balances. We are very affected by our surroundings. And sometimes, more than we think. I have experienced that this week. I have witnessed my body react to places and things my mind associated with emotional trauma. And I have not been able to snap out of it. Something has clicked, and I cannot click it back. I feel like I am just going through the motions. I feel numb. Where is my joy in life I had? That joy I have fought so hard to keep despite the depression I have been having? I was doing so well. I had it back. Then in an instant my mind panicked, and I guess it shut off everything to protect itself from the overwhelming emotional wave again. I have just been pushing forward and trying to at least fake a normal life again. This is hard.

PTSD

Turns out you can get PTSD from the doctor's office. I will remember that for when my kids are scared and traumatized by the doctor. I thought I had been doing remarkably well with the help I was getting after my D&C. I was feeling happy again. I hardly even felt sad when I thought about my babies. I was functioning pretty normally again. Then I had my follow up visit. I was instructed to make one to make sure everything turned out ok after the D&C, so I did. It was on Tuesday afternoon. I was feeling normal that day. When I pulled into the parking lot, my heart rate went up quite a bit. I was feeling a little sweaty, too, but I told myself I was being dumb and to stop it. I went into the office to check in, and I could hardly talk to the nurse I was so nervous. Luckily I didn't have to wait long, but even so, by the time I got into the exam room to wait for the doctor I was out of control. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't sit still. I couldn't think. It was like trying to take a breath right after taking a deep breath. I was crying, and I couldn't tell why. What was wrong? I was FINE 30 min ago. Then my doctor came in. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I could barely talk to him, and I could barely control myself. My doctor asked me a couple questions, and then commented on how I was not myself today. I looked anxious and upset. He told me it was not uncommon to get PTSD after these procedures. Then he offered me a prescription for the anxiety and depression. I was not in the right frame of mind to even think about it. I told him I was ok, and I would be fine as soon as I could leave. He told me to call if I changed my mind. I got 12 vials of blood drawn then for testing right afterwards. I was getting worse with every minute I was in there. I didn't even know they had taken so many vials until I saw the pile afterward. I left in a hurry. That night, needless to say, I was a mess. And I couldn't sleep to top it off. I finally got to sleep sometime after 2am. I felt no better that morning or as the morning proceeded. I decided to call the doctor for a benzo or something to help me get through unexpected times like these. The nurse went to talk to him, and he said he wanted to talk to me and he would call me back sometime later today. At 5pm his nurse called me again and told me that he said he was sorry he hadn't called yet. He had an emergency surgery and was stuck all day and that he would call me back later that evening. When 9:30 rolled around I realized he wasn't going to call. I guess I just have to wait until the storm is over. At midnight I couldn't sleep, so I went on a walk. My mind just went numb and I walked. I didn't get back until after 2am. And I still can't sleep. I don't understand what is happening to me. I have never been so out of control. So up or down. So utterly helpless. It has been so random. How can I possibly know how to avoid or prepare? I'll have to just wait and see how long it takes to feel better. I am not very high on the list of people to help, I guess. I don't know if I have the strength to try to get through this as well again.

News.

Today was a bad day. Well, it wasn't until late at night. I was watching a movie, and in it a girl gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Just seeing her pregnant didn't bother me. The baby crying didn't bother me. But I was surprised when I instantly broke into sobs when she put her finger in the baby's mouth, and the baby started sucking. I don't know why that was what got me. I sobbed and sobbed for a few minutes. It was the first time I have cried for sadness in 2 days. It was the first time in 2 days I couldn't control myself. What is happening to me?

The movie ended and I went to feed the dogs. To pass the time, I checked my email and facebook. I got a message from my childhood best friend that said she was expecting a baby boy Jan 31. Just typing that brings tears to my eyes again. I started bawling again. Hot tears on my cheeks. I cried even longer this time. And it took a while until the tears stopped. I really am so happy for her. But the sting of the reminder of my loss is still sharp. Very sharp. My husband told me that Abraham going through the trial of sacrificing Isaac was the biggest trial of faith there ever has been. Was it, perhaps, losing a child was the hardest part? I hope I don't have to find out.

White chocolate chips.

Is it wrong to want to be in a bad mood? I have come so far since Monday. I was busy all day yesterday, and I got so much accomplished. I felt so happy and so good. I'm not sure what happened today, but I have just wanted to sit on the couch with my baby's nursing cover in hand. And be grumpy and lazy. Not angry grumpy, more like rebellious. I don't want to get off the couch, and I don't have to! ha. No, I don't want to brush my hair today. No, I don't want to get out my pajamas today. And I can because I want to. Don't worry, my son ate well today. Veges, pasta, and white chocolate chips. He had the white chocolate chips because I had them. They are my comfort food. I don't like chocolate, but I LOVE white chocolate. Is it so bad to just throw responsibility out the window for a day? Just take it easy and enjoy TV all day? I guess I don't care that much because that is what I did. Here's to responsibility tomorrow.

No Matter what it is.

To my friends and family who read this blog, let me start by saying everything really is ok. I have been through a lot lately, and I have found that getting my thoughts out has helped, and I prefer to type rather than write. I don't want to have my trials on the same blog as my day to day life. Please don't think that I am breaking down, and please don't call to ask how I am doing. It is really hard to have everything brought up again. I am grieving, but I am still me. Mostly.

The beginning. I wanted to start trying to have another baby this last January. My son was turning 1 yr old, and I wanted to have them close together. I thought it would be so fun to have two little buds. So we tried for a few months. I was really confused that I didn't get pregnant right away. We got pregnant so easily with our son it actually shocked us. I thought it would be just as easy this time. I hadn't been on birth control, and I felt otherwise healthy. Just like last time. So I was so devastated by the negative results I was getting. But, then FINALLY! That little pink line! I was SO relieved and SO excited!

I went to my doctor when I was supposed to be about 8 weeks, and the ultrasound said it wasn't even measuring 6 weeks. So no big deal right? That's what I thought, too. But then when I was supposed to go back and get remeasured, It was gone. My doctor told me I was going to miscarry. This came as such a shock. My mind just completely stopped. This doesn't happen to me. This can't happen to me. I had a healthy baby already! What happened?! I could hardly even keep listening to what my doctor was saying. My ears just started ringing and it was all I could do to keep the tears partially stayed. I made it out to the waiting room and it was FULL of pregnant women. I have never been one to just lose it emotionally, but just the sight of them with their babies crushed me. The tears started spilling before I could even try to stop them. I made it out to my car, and I couldn't hold back anymore. I tried to call my husband, but my cell phone wasn't working. I needed some help, so I prayed. I was immediately wrapped in some loving arms and felt such love and comfort overcome me; the pain was stopped. It would be ok. I didn't know if I would keep this baby or not, but I would be ok.

My doctor had told me to come back in a week to see what was going on again. So I did, and this time, the ultrasound looked BETTER! I was so excited for a tiny bit of hope. My heart just raced. Maybe it will be ok. Maybe. So, since the ultrasounds were somewhat conflicting my doctor wanted to draw an HCG level to know for sure. So I had it drawn that day and was to repeat in 2 days. The first level came back in normal range, but you don't know anything until you compare it to a second level 48 hours later. It should at least double. I came back in 2 days and it had gone down. That small hope I had disappeared. I was an emotional roller coaster. The down, then up, then way down. I was so confused and hurt. But I knew it would be ok. I was told that. So I tried to stay as positive as I could in the circumstances. Also, my doctor had told me the chances of having a miscarriage again went way down, and odds were in my favor. Next time would be ok.

So, we tried again. This time the negative results were even more devastating than before. But I was still hopeful. It would happen! A few months went by again. What was wrong with me? Why can't I have another baby? Then again, that little pink line!!! The emotional relief was soo intense. I felt so relaxed and comforted. FINALLY. It was like the tension all over my body was cut in an instant. I had an ultrasound when I was about 8 weeks again. But it was measuring small again. About a week late. My heart dropped and I felt like my breathing stopped as well. I could feel the tears welling up in me again. Not again! NOT again! But the ultrasound tech was pointing out all the healthy indicators to me and said that everything really looked great. And then there was the heartbeat! I cried with joy when I heard that sweet music. The last one never got that far. This is good. It will be ok. So I left feeling relieved and excited! But I still was not out of the woods, so I tried not to get too excited. I started running my errands after the appt and was still feeling so elated. Then I was getting hot, and started to feel sweaty and damp. I started wondering why I felt so wet. When I got into my car I checked, and I couldn't even speak or move when I saw the blood. There was so much! I was just reassured and told it was healthy less than 2 hours ago! How can this happen? I was shaking and in disbelief and starting to lose control. I tried to call my doctor but the office was closed. I tried to call my nurse at the hospital but they were gone home as well. I didn't know where I could go. I had to get ready for activity days in 30 min, so I pulled myself together and went. My mind was completely missing during the activity, but the girls were busy enough they didn't notice. Then I called the after hours line to my doctor again after the activity and told him what happened. He told me to come in first thing in the morning and he would get me in. So I did.

The ultrasound showed the area where I bled, AND the baby. There it was. Complete with that same little heartbeat just fluttering away. My wonderful doctor reassured me again. He told me that this happens fairly frequently, and in most cases it means nothing. It was far from the baby, and it still looked healthy, and it should be ok. So I left feeling nervous but reassured. I continued to spot, but not nearly so bad as that day. I had another appt 2 weeks later just to check on it again. So I went feeling happy and confident. I felt like this time would be ok.

When he started looking at the baby, I could see the screen and just started searching for that little flutter. My heart rate slowly rising because I couldn't find it. My resp rate started rising, and I was getting nervous. Still no heart beat. Then my doctor turned to me and told me he had bad news. The heartbeat was gone. I was going to lose this baby, too. I started sobbing on the table. I had been getting comfortable, and somewhat sure that this one was the one. I had made a carseat cover and changing pad covers YESTERDAY. I had unpacked my box of maternity clothes that had been on the floor of my closet for over a month YESTERDAY. I thought about the next few months and how I wouldn't have a baby bump as proof of my trial. I wouldn't have a baby in March. I couldn't even listen to my doctor try to comfort me again. All I coherently heard was that I would probably need a D&C this time. My mind stopped. NO! You can't take my baby from me! I just couldn't bear the thought.

I left with tears streaming down my cheeks again. I called my husband, and I could hardly even get out the words. Last time I had some time to adjust and accept what was happening. This time the door was slammed in my face. The rug was pulled out from under me. Thursday morning I woke up with cramping and significant bleeding. I couldn't stand to bleed for 3 weeks again, so I called to make an appt for a D&C later that day. The cramping got worse and a little after noon it got really bad. The pain was as bad as contractions. I couldn't even stand. I was forced to my knees, and I couldn't even focus. I made it to the bathroom, and shortly afterwards I passed my baby. I could see it. Right there. I picked it up and held it tenderly and sobbed. It was so tiny. About an inch long. But so distinguishable. I could see it's eyes, nose, mouth, its intestines, and even 10 tiny fingers and 10 tiny toes. It was so small. I cried and cried.

I went to put it on some toilet paper. NO! my baby deserves better than that. So I went to the closet in a frenzy to get a small piece of cloth. NO! my baby deserves a blanket! Something soft. So again I ran upstairs in a frenzy again to get a small blanket that matched my son's favorite blanket to put it on. My appt time was coming up, but I didn't know if I should still go or not. I tried to call, but the nurses station was closed from 1-2 for lunch. I went anyway. I carried my baby in my lap all the way there. I had to drop my son off at my dear friend's house, and I was so emotional I could barely stand to leave him there when he was reaching for me. My husband drove us up to the clinic, and we went in. I thought it unfitting that the clinic is in a spa. There were happy women around me getting pampered, and I was struggling with the loss of my baby.

I had to give the nurse my baby so it could be tested. I went in to be prepped, was cleaned out, and was on my way home empty handed. I came home to see the pile of fabric that I had made my carseat cover from. There was all this evidence everywhere, and I had been stripped of everything. But, I just wanted to finish the nursing cover I had planned to make. I wanted to make it for my baby. So I got to work, and it was nice to have something to do. While I was making it, I didn't account for turning it inside out, and the boning ended up being in backwards. I couldn't stand it not being perfect, so I spent a half hour picking it out and then resewing it to make it perfect for my baby. I could do that for my baby.

I cried myself to sleep every night for several nights after that. It got to the point I didn't want to go to bed and would stay up really late in the hopes I would fall asleep instantly. I prayed for strength all day long. To keep it together. At least for my son if not for me. I have a whole new love for the song 'I Need Thee Every Hour,' because I really did. Every hour I needed new strength. I cried multiple times a day. I could hardly find energy to do anything. To make matters worse I got sick with the flu early Friday morning and was sick all day. I had no appetite the next couple days. I have lost 5 pounds in less than a week, and still haven't had a good appetite. I have struggled with depression before, and I could see myself sliding down that slippery slope. I had no motivation. Things didn't make me happy like they used to. I had no energy, but I couldn't sleep. I was getting so numb, though the tears still came. I could see that downward spiral, and I couldn't stop myself from falling into it. One day as I was sitting on the couch, I knew what was happening, but I could not find the energy to even try to stop it. I thought about letting myself go, because that would be easier than trying to stop it. I thought about how that would make me a terrible mother. I thought about my husband. But, I still couldn't find anything to help me stop.

I eventually went and got my patriarchal blessing. I thought it may have some comfort for me in it. As I read it, I got to a part that said I would come to know that despite stumbling and difficult challenges, Jesus' grace is sufficient to help me overcome any problem. No matter what it is. I sat and pondered that, and sobs shook my body. The spirit taught me 2 things.

1: The atonement is not just for repentance. Yes, Christ suffered for all our sins. That if we believe in him, we would find remission. I have come to know the sweetness of forgiveness in past trials, and it is exquisite. But, I learned that Christ also suffered our trials. Not the ones that we bring upon ourselves through mistakes, but the ones that we suffer because of life, nature, others, any trial that is through no fault of our own. He suffered those trials so he can comfort us perfectly. Though I did not mess up to cause this pain, I can STILL QUALIFY for Christ's love and comfort through his atonement.

2: I still have my agency. I sat there thinking that Christ has the power to fix any problem I have. I know that the chemistry in my brain is off, and I can't fix it. But Christ can. BUT, he wont just fix it for me. I need to ask. I still have my agency.

So, I sat there at a crossroad on the couch. I had a simple, but difficult (at the time) choice to make. I could sit there, and fall down that spiral I couldn't get out of. Or, I could have some strength and faith. Get up off the couch and pray that I would be healed. At that point, I was at a low, and I felt that I could not get up off the couch and do anything. I felt like it was an impossible task. But I didn't want to fall either. I sat there crying for some time trying to make my decision. I finally came to this. Either decision I make is probably going to lead me to the same end. I will have another baby at some time in the future. My husband gave me 2 blessings through this ordeal, and in both he told me I would have many opportunities to be a mother. I would have another baby. So, I could fall, let myself go, get better at some point, and have another baby. But I would be down, depressed, and probably wouldn't be a good mother to my son. Or, I could get up, have faith I would be healed, and be happy. I could get things accomplished, be a good mother, be a good wife. The choice became clear, though I still didn't know how I could do it. So I prayed. I prayed for the strength to make the good decision. That I could experience life through this trial, not just endure it. I wanted to handle this trial well, and I needed strength to do that. I told Heavenly Father that I could get up and take one step. I could do that. But I was honestly so depressed and hurt from my loss that I didn't think I could do much more than that. So I prayed. Please help me. I can take one step. I can take one step. I was there at my crossroad ready to take that step. I felt blindfolded and scared. I could take that step and fall. Or, I could take that step and Christ would be there to catch me. So, I took that step. And I can tell you, that after that one step, my prayer was immediately answered. My entire countenance changed. I felt all the pain and sadness leave me. I kept walking into the kitchen. I was still crying, but now it was tears of joy. He helped me overcome my problem. No matter what it was. I prayed with thanks this time. For helping me even though I don't deserve it. Even though I am so blessed already. Even though I should have had the strength to do it myself. Thank you. And I got to work. Something that was so impossible just moments before.

And here I am. I've been having a hard time still, but not nearly like it was. I still pray for strength, and I am so thankful for my friends and family that have been so loving and supportive. I couldn't have done it without all the help I received. But I miss my baby so much. I don't even know if it was a boy or a girl, but I already loved it like a full term baby. We will be trying again, and I hope that things will work out better this time.