Better.

It's getting better. Instead of tears running down my cheeks, it's just a random twinge and frown. Yesterday I started my period. In the shower this morning I had "flashbacks" of the ordeal.

Today is my first day at a new job! I'm excited but also slightly bummed that I'll be waking up at 5:30am every single day. I'm going to miss Oliver. He's already giving me the sad eyes. He's a punk. Maybe I should call in sick and snuggle with the cats all day. Zim knows something's up. He was sleeping on my head this morning in hopes to suffocate me enough to stay home.

So, I suppose miscarriages get better with time. They sure suck. And I had a slight fear that my period would start with those horrible pains. Every cramp reminds me of it.
An unedited photo of Oliver's sly death glare. And below is the cute Zim face I wake up to every morning.
Off to catch the bus and start my new job. I'm going to have to take my cats with me on occasion...

It's catching up

My mom always insists on looking in the baby section when we go to stores. I feel obligated to "ooo" and "ahh" at all the cute things, yet I'm choking back tears.

She's going through much more than I could ever understand. She's depressed; she was abused as a child. My dad doesn't believe that depression is an illness. I'm stuck supporting her when I can't even get myself together.

The miscarriage was over three weeks ago. Why can't I forget it? When I wake up in the morning, I rub my belly in hopes that it was all a dream. It's still empty.

I've had a miscarriage before. That one didn't hurt nearly as bad, emotionally or physically. Why must this time be so hard?

Is it because we nicknamed him? Is it because I wanted him? Is it because I'm not on anti-depressants anymore?

Logging into facebook, there's always an update of "so-and-so's" pregnancy. Baby pictures stand out. Big bellies containing life stare at me. I remember the heartbeat I saw; then I remember the day there wasn't one. I remember the bathroom--toilet filled with blood.

Today I saw my grandparents. My grandpa has prostate cancer. I felt like I just added to their saddness when I walked in without a belly.

I can't afford counseling. I know what they'll say. It's the same textbook replies to my depression. I've taken Psych 101, I know the drill, yet why can't I be content?

Maybe today was hard since the doctor called yesterday. All my labs are normal. I'm perfect, medically speaking. Maybe it's because I'm looking for a job instead of preparing the baby's room. Maybe I'm just emotional because I'm suppose to start my period soon.

I feel empty.