Ever since I lost Harpie, I’ve noticed a complete inability to sleep in. I don’t usually have problems falling asleep. I’m not having bad dreams. But come 5am, I am UP for the day (hence most of my blogging as of late occurring before the 7 o’clock hour). It’s very, very odd.

Not to mention that I think I picked up something at the hospital last week, so my asthma is going bonkers & I haven’t been able to breathe through my nose in 4 days. No offense, God…but haven’t I been through enough this week??

In uterus updates, yesterday was the first “good” day physically for my ute. It didn’t hurt, cramp, nada. I’m having small clots, and the bleeding is mostly smears rather than a heavy period. The only thing disgusting is that it’s so dark it’s almost black — I am hoping that is a sign of the end.

Surprisingly, yesterday was easy. Nate & I both thought it would be more difficult emotionally, being one week since we lost Harpie. I did have my moments — seeing the clock at 7:15am and thinking, “Hmmm, one week ago we were checking into the ER.” And at 8:45pm last night, I thought “One week ago I was sitting on this couch with my girlfriends, totally drugged up.” But no depressing thoughts, or tears. Yesterday was a very, very good day.

Well. This is depressing, no?

Obviously, Nate & I are not TTC yet considering my vag still feels like a war zone. But I am going to start picking up my BBT in the morning. I’ll feel much more in control when I can see things in black-and-white & on paper.

You know what was oddly emotionally difficult for me to do? Start taking my PNV’s again. I stopped taking them on Saturday…I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. But then I realized that my body really did need the vitamins, especially the iron. The first time I popped a PNV, I felt this surge of joy…yeah. It’s not the same the 2nd time around.

It feels good to be back at work today, especially with so few people in the office. I’m catching up, listening to Christmas music, and doing just fine. MUCH better than yesterday. Today is a good day

Yesterday was hard. Tough. Overwhelming. Unfair. There are no words that I can think of that aptly describe how I felt.

I don’t know why yesterday was so difficult. I woke up feeling physically better & feeling emotionally okay. I got ready, and as I was putting on make-up with curlers in my hair it hit me — this day SUCKS. Hardcore. It was the first moment since the m/c that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I did not know what to do with myself. Not to mention getting ready was so physically exhausting that I had to sit down for a minute before we could even walk out the door. I did look at Nate tearfully at one point & say, “Today is hard.” He nodded, & we rode to my parent’s house in silence (for the most part).

I walked it and BAM! it hit me. The loss of our sweet babe washed over me & I didn’t know why, but looking back I realize that I began my m/c in my parent’s house. In one of the guest rooms upstairs. And that I sat in a dining room chair for 30 minutes on Saturday, waiting for Nate to pick me up while I nervously picked my fingernails apart. Their house was the last place that I knew Harpie was okay. Not to mention crashing hormones make me a little bit unstable right now, plus as the physical pain wears off, it’s easier to pay attention to the emotional pain.

And I may need an intervention at this confession, but I couldn’t take it & I popped a codeine pill with a glass of wine at 12pm. It dulled the pain almost immediately. I kept repeating to myself all the things we have to be thankful for, even in this situation. And they are true, but sometimes I have to repeat them over & over to myself to beat back the bitter feelings.

I didn’t have a problem talking about Harpie though, or talking about Saturday. Obviously, our guests (close family friends) were very curious, so we discussed the m/c. I didn’t cry; there was no need to. I was thankful that one of them hugged Nate & asked him if he was okay, saying that everyone always goes to the mother, but the father’s pain tends to be pushed aside. Ironic, considering that he got most of the congratulations when people found out we were pregnant. I did, however, tell my father that I would throat punch him if he ever jokingly called my m/c my “little event” ever again. I realize that my father is heartbroken over Harpie, & that he was trying to keep a brave face yesterday by being funny. I get it, because I do it too — I am my father’s daughter. But I deserve more respect than that. Nate deserves more respect. & my baby deserves more respect.

And before you desire to lynch my father, remember that I understand him. And that he apologized profusely. My family has never experienced a m/c before — none of my aunts, cousins, mother, sister-in-laws…none of them. Save my paternal grandmother, who lost a baby at 36 weeks & who blamed my father for the loss her entire life. So you can understand why this rips my Daddy up inside — he thinks there must be something he could have done to save Harpie, or to heal me. I want you to understand that I understand him, so please don’t leave comments about how my father should be tarred & feathered at a stake in the middle of town, mmkay?

I forgot what I was writing about…other than Thanksgiving was hard. I kept thinking about last Friday night, when Nate & I met for coffee after work. We sat at a table in Starbucks, sipping cocoa (him) and a latte (me), playing with each other’s wedding rings on the table & talking cheerfully about how we would have a 5-month-old next Thanksgiving. Now it seems we will be thankful to be pregnant next Thanksgiving. That is a low blow to the heart.

I wanted to see Nate as a dad. I think that is what hurts the most. I flashback to the night where we stood in Baby Crack & talked about Harpie. Nate asked me where the furniture would go, and I pointed out which corner was reserved for the glider, which would host the chest of drawers, and which wall we would put the crib on. He walked over to the crib wall & pretended to pick up a babe and I remember my heart absolutely swelling with love & pride. I couldn’t WAIT to see him as a dad & to see him hold our baby.

I cried myself to sleep for the first time last night since losing Harpie.