the healing powers of the sun

I haven't really committed to blogging...as you can see by my single, sad (literally) post this past winter. Whenever I've thought of blogging, I wanted a happy blog filled with beautiful photos of homemade ice cream and brand new strawberries plucked from the garden. I don't make ice cream and I don't have a garden. I do have a pretty sweet life overshadowed right now as I gradually come out of the sadness of the miscarriage. Soon we will pass the due date for the baby we lost, I am hoping that brings closure. Until then I still keep looking at other pregnant women thinking, I could have been that big right now, I could have been melting in the 40degree heat wave while waddling around in a maxi dress and trying to convince my two-year old that he really can walk and need not be carried. On the other hand, I find myself very happy for each moment that I get to enjoy with my one kid. I do hope he won't be an only child but I also appreciate spending time with him at this age and not having to juggle two. On the upside, he'll be older when he gets a baby brother or sister and so maybe it will be easier on him. He gets a lot more time solo with mom and papa. We all get lots of sleep and we've been traveling a lot. We have so many amazing conversations and cuddle sessions that I wouldn't change for all the world.

new life

We just had a miscarriage. One in five pregnancies end in miscarriage. Mine was called a missed abortion meaning the baby stopped living well before I had my twelve week ultrasound. We were shocked. We have a perfect, happy, healthy baby at home...he's almost two. That pregnancy was textbook perfect. I had been worried because I was that magic age where all reproductive fear takes hold: 35. This time I was confident. I was ready to order the pictures of our little zygote. Then I heard the words 'pregnancy not viable.' I am the hopeful sort so I went immediately into future mode thinking we'll just get pregnant again, fast. I felt obsessed about having a two year age gap between the kids. Now, two weeks and a lot of blood later, I just feel obsessed about having another baby period. Today I had another ultrasound and sitting in that waiting room made me miserable. Every single pregnant woman made me feel worse about myself. I didn't feel jealous exactly, just crappy and a bit hopeless. I keep reminding myself that this happens to a lot of people. I am just in a dark place right now. I keep counting...how many months before we can try again, how many months will it take us this time, how old will I be, how old will my oldest be? These are all bourgeois worries, I know. It's petty as hell. I should be thankful for what I have and by no means should I be feeling desperate yet. I am still able to get pregnant. What about the millions of people who can't or who endure fertility treatments for years. Right now, my perspective is scewed and I just feel really bad for me.