I'm angry. And bitter. It's not fair what happened to me. I should be 10 weeks pregnant right now complaining of morning sickness and heart burn, examining my stomach in the mirror to see if I've sprouted a bump. I shouldn't be recovering from a d&c, I shouldn't have to be terrified of a tube rupture because of an ectopic pregnancy, I shouldn't be wishing for a period to come so I can be that much closer to TTC again.
I'm basically throwing a 29 year old temper tantrum and raging at the universe because I didn't get what I wanted.
I'm also being bitter. I hate begrudging other people's happiness and it's usually so unlike me, but lately I've been avoiding people I know are pregnant. I've been all, "Why does Snooki get to have a baby and not me?" I've actually gone so far as to schedule a doctor's appointment at a particular time so as to avoid a run in with a woman whose due date would have been right near mine. It's ugly and I hate it because it's not who I am.
And I'm also pretty pissed off that I still can't have any alcohol (the methotrexate is processed by the liver and I can't over tax it), exercise (what if I think the pain is from exercise but it's really a tubal rupture), or have sex (the discharge papers from the hospital said "nothing in the vagina"). I'm mad that I don't have my normal life with my normal schedule with normal doses of wine.
I need to remind myself that just because someone else has something that's good, it doesn't mean that they stole it away from me.
|This was real. Just because the baby never lived doesn't make it any less real.|