CD3 strike

October 7, 2011

I keep going back to the puppy dog face the doctor gave me, the way she said, "Mawww, I'm sorrrry," and how I wanted to kick her energetic, fake-tanned head.

Going in to see the doctor wasn't my idea, but I was sure treated as if it was. Instead of having a real discussion, I got a pat on the head like a little girl whose only problem is lack of patience. I'm ignorant of some things, but fertility isn't one of them.


Pointless. It'll probably cost me a small fortune for a trip that served no purpose, a trip that I didn't ask for.

It gives me something outside of myself, my failed body, to be angry about, but more anger isn't helpful.

My favorite part is when I'm told that nothing can be holding me back, because I already have a beautiful healthy boy, and then I'm told not to try to conceive until next month. Guess what, if I took your advice? I wouldn't have my beautiful healthy boy.

I have to strike while the fertility iron is hot.

1 out of 3. My body has contained more death than life. Or so it feels as I walk this walk again.

On repeat. "Nocturne" by The Marquis. Instrumental.

CD1 miscarriage, poem

October 5, 2011

Invisible

To me, you were born.
Your heart pounded.
You heard my voice.
You opened your eyes

and saw the dawn,
and the moon fading,
and the snow falling.

You stretched and grew,
and ran like a bird flies,
chasing sunshine with
invisible wings.

You sang loudly
off-key, and we
traveled on together.
You skinned your knees.
You laid in the grass
beneath fireworks
and held my hand.
You made me laugh.
Your heart yearned,
and your heart broke.
You ached and cried,
and lost your faith,
and gained it back again.
You let go of my hand,
but kept your wings.
And when the sun finally set,
you sang softly
off-key, and we
traveled on together.

4w2d train coming

October 4, 2011

I was feeling really good about this pregnancy today. Lots of nausea and fatigue. A nice high temperature. Oddly, though, the pregnancy test was still faint and I thought it should be a good dark line by now. I decided I would test again tomorrow, and I put it out of my mind.

I pulled out my old pregnancy books and paged through the first two months. I imagined the future. How we would announce the pregnancy. How we would prepare a nursery. What it would be like next June, when I'm the mother of two.

I have no cramps. Nothing menstrual. No warning.

But now I'm spotting.

I had deluded myself into safety, forgetting that I have no control, that believing in a dream doesn't make it last. Today, the reality I'm waking up to caught me completely off guard.

Tied to the train tracks, all I can do is wait and watch the train that's coming to destroy me.