I am not someone who likes pictures taken of myself, unless they are for a good reason -like pregnancy. I love my pregnancy photos. Other than that, I delete most pictures taken of me. Don't get me completely wrong, I make sure there are some photos of me in the mix, I am just very picky as to which ones those are. You must know what I mean.
When I was going through my photos last night, I came across these. The one of me looking down, Roxie snapped. And I just could not bring myself to delete it. It is not a flattering photo by any means, and any other day I wouldn't of thought twice about deleting it. But right now, I think it sums up exactly how I am feeling. I know I need to embrace this time in our lives, and deleting the photo represented me not coming to terms. It was taken Thursday night after seeing that horrible image on our ultrasound. The same image I cannot erase from my memory. I see this photo of myself and feel myself right there...feeling that deep loss and emotion. So raw and open.
I am grateful for the time I was truly pregnant, it has honestly changed our lives. When I first found out I was pregnant I started a journal, something I have done with all three of my other babies. I found it hard to go back to and write the outcome of Thursday's appointment, but also healing. Writing down my thoughts is most definitely my way to heal and overcome. Last night as I was preparing for bed, I grabbed my journal...but I couldn't write in it that time. I know it was because my small false-prego belly was staring me in the face...I couldn't help but feel it was mocking me. I know that is just my anger speaking it's mind. Underneath that emotion, I know that my body is grieving and does not want to give up this pregnancy just as much as my heart.
The three beautiful daughters I do have are my constants. They hug me and look into my eyes. They don't know how to help, but do know that all their Mama needs is their love...which they give so openly, even when Mama snaps at them.
I am blessed with a very supportive family. With a sister-in-law sending dinner and sharing what has helped her through her eight miscarriages. All of my sister-in-laws have gone through similar ordeals, and they know there is nothing to say, nothing other than I'm sorry.
The flowers in the photos were given to me by my father. When there are no words, there are always flowers. In a crazy way, I took much comfort in them.
I am trying to preoccupy myself with the last of (which kinda makes it sound like its almost done...and we're far from it!) packing so we can sell our townhouse. In a way this is good, other than the two mortgages we have right now, it is going to keep me busy.
Soon, I know it will be easier for me...and I look forward to that time.
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