Random Thoughts

It's been a long few weeks... in a way, I still feel like the miscarriage didn't happen. I still feel the effect (bleeding is over but the anemia induced fatige is still hanging around) but it all happened so fast and was discounted so quickly that it all feels like a big dream.

I have a friend, a wonderful and dear friend who I met online. If we lived in the same town I'm certain we'd never see our husbands (or hardly ever) because she and I would be off together with our kids - doing whatever it is that good friends do. We endured the long road of TTC together, and along the way, realized we were kindred spirits. I think in some alternate universe we were twins separated at birth.

The reason I tell you about L is because she is the one and ONLY person who really acknowledged the loss of this child. I think she is the ONLY person to 'get it'. Including the love of my life who looked relieved when it was all said and done.

I don't know how to thank her.

I did finally overhear D telling his mom about the night it happened - when it was scary and painful and we were lost in what to do. I can only imagine what she was asking him when he responded 'well, we weren't the most careful, but I don't think either one of us would have been disappointed with another baby.' So MIL knows what happened, knows I'm taking A to see my mom for five days, then leaving again for a business trip to Nashville (only returned home late last night) yet has NOT called D since to check on him, or the kids, or me for that matter. I bled a ton that night, went through hell, but she has yet to see how I'm recovered.

Lovely.

My mom was concerned. She had tears in her eyes as I told her in person what happened. D had to call my stepdad and tell him the story (because there was the concern that I might not be able to fly). Thankfully I was cleared the night before so we could travel. But my MIL doesn't know that. All she knows is that I was bleeding, might not be able to go, may be to ill to see my mom - yet she could care less.

And could care less about her grandhildren.

It was good to see my mom. It was tough to see my mom. She's recovering! She's able to communicate (at a whisper). She's able to eat some foods (that my stepdad feeds her). She can't drink, she can't hold a cup, she can't speak where we can hear her voice, but she's there neurologically.

Which is amazing. And a double edged sword. The amazing woman I know and love is coming back! And she's trapped. Trapped in a body that has failed her. Trapped with her thoughts and emotions in a body she can't control, can't feed, can't use the toilet, can't swallow, can't control the drool, can't walk, can't sit straight up.

On some level, it was easier to see her asleep, in a coma, and hooked to fourteen different machines. That sounds terrible. Terrible. I'm so happy to see the shine in her eyes. I'm so saddened to see the shine in her eyes.

Conflicted thoughts. Confused me.

Right now I'm just happy to be home. I haven't seen J for over a week (unless you count the 45 minutes I had with him last Tuesday morning before I left for the airport or the 15 minutes I had with him his morning before D took him to daycare and I got to work.)

More and more I want to move, to stay home with my kids, to be there to see my mom - so when I see her it's the norm to have her like she is and not the woman in my memory.

The time has come. We need to move.