First Post

Most of my Musings readers know what we've been dealing with lately. Making the choice to end our pregnancy because our child was not viable was a hard choice. Though I know it made sense logically and humanely, it made no sense emotionally.

I like writing about my thoughts. I don't do so well when it comes to speaking about our loss just yet. Everyone has offered to be there, to be an ear, a shoulder, whatever part of the body we need. And I really love that. I wish I could take them up on it. The problem is, I find that I have no spoken words to express my grief. When I begin to talk, I start to cry. And when I start to cry, I just kinda lose it. So I can write, and if I cry, I can take a break.

People want to know how we're doing. All I can say is that we're breathing. Aaron says that we're doing as well as can be expected. It's true. I don't necessarily want to be honest when people ask me how I'm doing. If I answered every person honestly, it would be something like this: "I start each day wondering if everything was a dream. By the time I've showered and gotten dressed, I realise that it wasn't a dream. By the time I get some food in me, I've come to terms with my loss for a while. By the time midafternoon rolls around, I'm starting to feel confused. By the time 6 pm rolls around, it's an effort to breathe, much less speak. By the time I get to bed, all I want to do is cry." That's the honest answer. Each moment is different.

I get sick of crying. I get sick of thinking about everything. It just makes me mad. I just want to kick someone or something. I just want to be finished with this whole process. I don't want to cry anymore. I want everything to be ok again. I just don't know how to make it ok again.

I hope someday that they come up with a cure for Potter's Syndrome. I hope they can identify the genes that cause it. I pray that no one else that I know ever has to go through this heartbreak. Losing a child, whether it is a "live" child, or a child in utero, has got to be the hardest thing on a family ever.

Breathe.