A Change of Plans

Last week, I had a miscarriage. No more April baby for us. Guess that's what I get for mocking my uterus!

I have a lot of trouble showing the masses when I'm upset - I'm a pro at turning on my brave, "everything's gonna be alright" face when required, so as not to give anyone a reason to pity me. Even this blog has been spared my down times - putting a positive spin on things even when I wasn't quite there in my heart.

But even my superhero-worthy positive spin skills fail me on this one. Regardless of knowing everything will be fine, that we'll have kids someday, that this isn't the end, just a set-back, and that it'll make me stronger, I can't fight the fact that this just plain sucks. None of those certainties touches the overwhelming sense of everything being lost.

Joe and I have faced a lot of crap in our relationship, survived a lot. We're unfortunately very good at picking up the pieces and figuring our way forward. But part of that is finding something we could have done differently, something to save us in the future, a reason things happened the way they did, even if it's something stupid we did.

But with this one, everyone keeps pointing out "these things happen, it's no one's fault, it's really common." But where does that leave me? If I can't blame anyone, can't learn from a mistake, I'm left with the overwhelming feeling that the world somehow has it out for us. How can something that felt so right be taken away without any reason at all? And how can I not keep looking for something in myself that made this happen, some reason I wasn't worthy of becoming a mother?

I know some day I'll read this and recognize the positive things that came from having survived this experience. My head clearly recognizes that. But I'd be lying if I said my heart did.