I should have been 33 weeks pregnant right now.
I can’t even believe that.
I wish I understood why it feels like someone keeps punching me in the gut every time I find out someone I know is pregnant.
It’s not like I havent been blessed with children.
I have these two gems:
I long for a full term and fruitful pregnancy.
When I had my miscarriage back in May.. I blamed myself.
I didn’t rest.
I was on my feet, walking all over NYC.. to have just a few last memories of new york before I moved 6,000 miles away to a little Israeli farm.
Maybe that was the reason it happened?
Maybe the years in the freezer didn’t produce a healthy blast?
I don’t know.
I do know that for a few weeks I was pregnant.
The second line showed up.
And I am so so so thankful that I didn’t miscarry halfway through my pregnancy.
I am glad it happened early.
I am allowed to mourn what could have been.
I need to remind myself that it is ok to be sad.
I am always the one trying to find a bright side to situations.
That means that I don’t usually allow myself to dwell on something when it doesn’t work out.
I have such a strong belief in God that I know that everything happens for a reason…. Or doesn’t happen for a reason.
I never thought I would know what it’s like to miscarry.
It’s like menstrual cramps times a thousand.
And the blood…
The blood doesn’t stop.
And with every drop of blood… a tear falls… because it was still my baby.
The pregnancy app on my iphone is a constant reminder of what could have been.
My husband’s cousin is just as far along as I should have been.
It’s hard when you see someone you know who is due around the time you should have been.
I look at her and that too is a constant reminder.
And I will look at her beautiful little girl and watch her grow up and in the back of my mind… I will remember.
I will always remember.