Take my breath away

Depressing post ahead...consider yourself duly warned :-)

Sometimes it hits me out of nowhere, leaves me momentarily stunned. You see, sometimes, when I least expect it, I'm reminded that I lost our baby. Friday I would have been 12 weeks along; instead Friday was the five-week 'anniversary' of my D&C, it was also the first day of AF. What can I say? My timing, apparently for once, was impeccable.

Sometimes I wonder if the pg was real or if I dreamed it; it seems so far away and as if it happened to someone else, someone not me--at least not the me that I am now. It all happened so quickly it seems, looking back on it. A surprisingly smooth cycle: only 1 follicle after 8 days of low dose Gonal-F, 2 unremarkable IUIs with 3 rounds of back-up sex at home, didn't let myself stress over it, went to Key West late in the 2WW, got drunk for the first time in years--no lie, implantation happened somewhere along the way, 3 superbly rising betas, 1 early u/s where all was good, 2nd u/s where hope got the shit beat out of her, as did my heart. Did it all really happen?

Sometimes I get angry. But I've also come to understand that, for me, it had to happen...that the baby would not have lived long had the pg progressed to term. But that doesn't make the pain go away, even when I haven't felt it for a while. Still it returns...pokes into my ribs with its sharp claws, makes my head swim and my eyes water, makes me question myself, my choices, my life, and why it has to be so damn hard.

Sometimes the pain is so fresh, so raw, it takes my breath away. I have to wonder if I can possibly go through it again and emerge intact. I'm not intact now, not in the least. An indelible scar has been left on my heart and in my soul. I feel broken at times and wonder what can be done to 'fix' me.

Sometimes I'm afraid to go to sleep at night. You see, in those early days following the miscarriage, I did everything I could to delay the inevitable coming of night--I watched TV 'til the wee hours, read, anything that meant I didn't have to close my eyes and try to sleep. The thought of sleeping and then getting up to face the coming day was overwhelming when I didn't know how I could find the strength to go on, to get up, to continue living. I was paralyzed, consumed by my fear; it was all-encompassing. Life was not the same, I was not the same, so how could I just return to my same 'normal' (read pre-miscarriage) routine? I struggled with that one. And now I again find myself struggling with it; it hits when I least expect it.

Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself to breathe, to carry on, to hold my head up high, to put one foot in front of the other. That I'm a survivor, that people have made it through much worse and still they persevere. What is their secret? How do they do it? How can I face each day when I sometimes can't face the night? How do I learn to breathe again?