I passed through nausea I thought may be pregnancy. It wasn't, but it filled me with such a mix of emotions, that I'm scared of going anywhere near that pandora's box again. I had a whiff of hope but mostly fear, depression, and a certainty of more loss. I was so overcome, I cried. I've lost track of the exact number of miscarriages I've had in a row. I want to say it was either fifteen or sixteen, in addition to the loss of my four-month-old. I just can't take another one. We're actively trying not to get pregnant but haven't decided on anything more committal than that. One day soon, we need to figure something out. But in the meantime, I feel like I'm walking on thin ice every month, scared of that pandora's box bursting open again.
And just when I think I'm well on my way to emotional healing, to finding more joy than fear, something like this happens. Though it was a non-event, it was a reminder of what could be at any time. With the last miscarriage, I had to come to terms with the knowledge that my body just will not, cannot give me another live baby. Mostly, I've found peace with this. But there are moments the pain brushes the surface, lurks underneath. I know I will hold my babies again. I look forward to the resurrection and to a glorious reunion. But in the meantime, I fear more loss.
