I want to say goodbye to this ache that haunts me. I want to say goodbye to these four long disastrous years and be someone else - or, more accurately, the "before" me.
I want to smile with my soul, like I did before.
I want to celebrate the babies that other people have, like I did before.
I want to imagine a future filled with laughter and joy, like I did before.
I want to walk into a room with a pregnant woman and not have a panic attack, like I did before.
I want my eyes to stay dry, like they did before.
Hubby and I had a long talk last night, the kind where all sorts of shit gets aired out and tears are cried and we stay up way too fucking late because we can't turn off the verbal diarrhea. Among other things, he asked me if I could ever imagine myself not being haunted by our losses and my fading dream of motherhood. And I said the words I NEVER thought I'd have to say: I can't start to heal until we stop trying.
It's true. I hate it for being true, but it's true. Every time I start to heal emotionally from a miscarriage, I end up pregnant and going through it all all over again. Like fucking groundhog day. And now the calendar destroys me, because every month is something - a would be birthday. A loss anniversary. A pregnancy anniversary. Mother's Day. Father's Day. A veritable minefield.
I don't think I want to stop trying, yet. But it's different now. I've always believed in my heart that somehow I'd end up pregnant with a baby that didn't die. Now, I just don't know. I doubt it will happen, and I doubt I can ever forgive my body for failing us. It's like that last little innocent, naive part of me - the part that got excited about a positive hpt, the part that could still remember the excitement that our first pregnancy brought us - is finally dead.
How do you know when to walk away from a dream? When do you walk away from everything you've ever wanted? How do you know when you're crossing the line that separates "trying everything I can" from "destroying everything I am?"