Tomorrow would have been our 18 week Ultrasound appointment. When we would have found out the sex of the baby. Instead, I'm back to peeing on sticks. I had a feeling the shoulda-been blues would hit me during this time, or I should say get worst because they haven't really gone away.
I know I was all upbeat sounding back in December. That this was just a little delay. A little bump in the road. And while I still feel that way, it sucks. Pregnancy and babies surround me. While I don't actively tear up, I do feel pangs of .... SIGH! I don't really feel jealousy. Nor regret. I guess it's frustration and worry. Worry of having to go through that again.
What really gets me are stories of parents. Of loss. Of changes in plans. New beginnings are still joyful and exciting. I am truly happy for those around me who are starting or adding to their families. I will talk about placentas, and sore boobs, and the importance of staying hydrated. Of co-sleepers and brands of diapers, and what diaper bags to buy so that daddy is cool carrying it. And also for the random stranger who is just starting to show or about to pop. But I also feel a sense of wallowing. That I'm feeling sorry for myself. For us. For our little one. And this is going on a little too long.
I know this happens to a lot of people. It happens all the time. I know it could be a one time thing and all will be perfect next time. But I wonder if I'm strong enough to get through this time. To get to the next time. To get through the worry which will undoubtedly overwhelm me next time.
I know no one knows. Know one knows what and when and if the next time will happen. But I know I need to be strong, but I also need to be honest in order to be real, to heal, to be whole. I'm bummed and I'm sick of it.